


A Song For Dreamers

by Poohzhunny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dreamers (Dragon Age), F/M, Gen, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Spirit Cole (Dragon Age), Spirit Healer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: Post Trespasser where Cullen was told to take lyrium. Harding finds him on the streets of Val Chevin in the advanced stages of lyrium madness.





	1. The Lion of Ferelden

“Do you think you can help him?” Lace Harding asked. She wrung her hands compulsively, avoiding to look over at what had once been the Commander of the Inquisition forces, Cullen Rutherford. The man curled into a ball on a cot. He was unrecognizable, his blond hair and beard a matted mess, his eyes haunted. He rambled to himself as he pulled on his hair. He hadn’t said a coherent word to her. It had been no small task to find someone in Val Chevin willing to help him even get here.

Lilim had given her no guarantees. “It’s very advanced. I don’t want to give you any false hopes. I’ve never brought someone back who was this far gone.” She lay a hand on his forehead and he swatted it away with a whimper. “I will do everything I can, that I promise. I owe him and the Inquisition that much. We all do.”

Harding nodded. “If there is anything we can do to help?”

“There is. He’ll require significant healing. Any lyrium potions you can send me to restore myself will be appreciated. I’ve some stored, but not much and they are rather... pricey.”

“I understand. Sister Leliana will ensure you have all the supplies you need.”

“Thank you.”

Harding glanced at the Commander. She shook her head. “ I should have come sooner.”

“How could you have known. By the time the madness settles in, most of them disappear. I understand he has family?” Harding nodded. “Let them know. They should know in case they’d like to make their goodbyes.” Lilim walked Harding to the door. “I’ll keep Sister Nightingale updated. Thank you for bringing him here. Whether he makes it or not, he deserves a chance.”

Harding left after one last look at the Commander. Lilim put some water on the fire to make a herbal tea that would help him keep food down. She brought him a glass of water for the moment, helping him sit up to drink. His eyes darted left and right. She reached out, her heart and mind opening to the Fade. Her ears thrummed with energy and her skin began to shimmer, her hair fluttering in an unseen breeze. The spirit came to her. It flowed from the Fade and into her to fill her with healing energy which she passed to him until she was drained. He was not injured that she could see, but it needed all the help it could get. His emaciated body tensed at first but his eyes closed and he relaxed after a moment before going to sleep.

She steeped the herbs in a pot. She brought the remainder of the water to the wash basin where she mixed it with soap. She added some soap to the basin an dipped a cloth in. Gently, she removed his shirt and pants by cutting them off. She washed his face first. Her throat clenched as she moved to washing his chest. Nothing seemingly remained of the proud Lion of Ferelden. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her throat clenched. What a tragic turn.

She covered him with a blanket. She walked past her mirror but didn’t register the sudden ashen tone of her skin or the dark circles under her eyes. Using this much power to heal drained. She was used to it. She took a lyrium potion out of her safe and drank it. She’d have a few hours before he’d wake up. She lay on her chaise and settled down to sleep if she could.

 

She woke up to the sound of a voice. Cullen stood at the door, trying to open it in his small clothes. When she had first begun taking in Templars to help them deal with the final stages of lyrium addiction, she’d had special locks added to the doors so her intakes wouldn’t be able to sneak off into the night as she slept. There was danger to sharing a space with them but it was for the best. She couldn’t help them if they disappeared.

She stood from the couch and walked over to Cullen. She called his name. She spoke to him so as not to startle him and touched his arm gently. He cowered at the door, his face in his hands as he muttered to himself. She reached out to the spirits again but used less energy, just enough to calm him as she held his hands away from his eyes to guide him up. She smiled while she spoke to him. His eyes looked into hers, their terrified expression softening as they stopped their jittery dance. She took him back to the cot to sit down with him. She gave him a cup of the tea she’d made earlier and drank some with him. His hands shook too much. She put her cup down and helped him steady his hands so he could drink, letting more of the healing energies seep through between them.

She grabbed some clothes from a dresser nearby, singing softly as she went to keep his attention. When she returned to him, he held up his cup to her for more. She took it to set it on the table and show him the shirt. She let him touch it. She slid one of the sleeves through, then the other before buttoning up the shirt. He wrinkled the fabric between his fingers but he didn’t tear it.

She stood up to fill a bowl with bone broth that she’d prepared the previous day while she waited for Harding and a group of agents to bring the Commander to her. It had taken some time despite his weakened stated - his screams had alerted her that they’d almost made it from quite a distance. She kept on humming. She thought the sound helped addicts anchor themselves to something less frightening than whatever hallucinations plagued them. She held a spoonful of broth to him but he withdrew against the wall. She ate it as he watched her. She refilled it and offered it again. He could smell the broth. His lips twitched. His eyes shifted between her and the spoon. He tried to hold it but the broth splattered on his fingers. It wasn’t hot so he didn’t burn himself. He licked it off and reached for more.

She held his hands as she brought the spoon to his mouth instead, never breaking eye contact. She let a little more energy seep into him. He leaned and slurped up the broth. They repeated this until the bowl was empty. She washed his hands and face, humming, smiling, trickling more and more healing into him until she’d drained herself dry. His eyes closed. She covered him with the blanket and let him rest. If he could make it through the next twenty-four hours, there may be reason to hope. The mint and ginger in the tea would help him keep the broth down. He needed all the nutrients he could ingest, but it was much too soon for a proper meal. The night was spent between helping the Commander drink, eat, and resting, for both of them.

 

Lilim awoke the following day after a nap with Cullen staring wildly at her from above. He held her down, snarling and screaming of demons. She called to the spirits as she tried to soothe him with words but he flung her to the floor, his fists pummelling down as she tried to keep him from injuring her as best she could. She cast a lifeward and a barrier on herself, hoping it would outlast his tantrum.

He recoiled from her after a moment, scratching at his face. She clutched at her breast, waiting for him to calm further before getting up. It wasn’t the first time she’d take the brunt of one of her charges’ outbursts. She would have to add a touch more blood lotus to keep him calm. There was strength left in him yet. She gave him some space as she measured up herbs for the tea again. When her throat felt up for it she sang to him again. She brought him a cup of tea but he wouldn’t look at her. He’d curled himself up on the floor with his hands raking at the wood. The sound of his nails scratching the grain made her teeth clench. Tears rolled down from her eyes. She was tired. She needed more lyrium but she didn’t dare open the safe while he was awake in this state.

She approached him as she hummed. The sobs that racked him almost choked her. She lay her hands on his shoulder. What energy she had left passed into him. He looked at her from behind his fingers. She took his hands to pull him up. A tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. She led him a few steps, his hands squeezing hers in spurts. His eyes closed as he listened to her voice. His own throat seemed to be working, though no sound came. She grabbed a cup of tea with one hand and passed it to his lips. She sang out loud. It was an old song her mother used to sing to her when she was young. He drank by himself but his whole body shivered.

She took a pair of trousers out of a dresser. She helped him slide into them before sitting on the cot with him. He ate more broth. As she pulled the last spoonful away, his hand held hers intently. He took a moment to look into her eyes before they closed and he fell asleep. She cusped his face in her hand. She couldn’t give him any more magical healing until she’d had some rest, but touch could heal the most broken souls - if they allowed it.

She ate some bread, honey and wine as she wrote a message to Sister Nightingale.

 

_Sister Nightingale,_

_He’s survived the first day. I can’t offer more than hope, and ask that you pray for him. There is determination left in him - now I understand why they called him the lion. Might I ask, did he sing? It seems to help him, I am curious._

_-Lilim_

 

Lilim had the message sent by bird, took a lyrium potion and fell asleep herself. The following afternoon, a raven tapped at her window with a response.

 

_Dear Lilim,_

_Thank you for the update. We have added the Commander to our prayers. You should receive a shipment of lyrium potions by evening. One of my agents is en route. He will stay with you to offer any help you may need._

_May Andraste guide you,_

_-Leliana_

_PS: He did enjoy music. His own singing was a seldom heard treasure._

 

Lilim threw some vegetables in the pot of broth, more bones and herbs. Cullen still slept however plagued with nightmares. His body was drenched in sweat, his every muscle tense, his eyes moving left to right. She tossed a handful of herbs on the fire and brought a chair next to his cot as the smoke spread into the room. She leaned back, breathing in the scent of the herbs.

She found herself in a tower. A young Cullen kneeled in a shimmering circle. Abominations hovered about him, sneering, whispering, torturing him. She could feel his fear, his anger, his hunger and thirst all at once. The image changed. A city this time. A courtyard? Strewn with corpses, most of whom appeared to be mages. Cullen knelt still, in front of a corpse this time, racked with guilt.

Memories from his past haunting him. Failed harrowings from his days as a templar. Fighting endless hordes of demons dressed in his magnificent Inquisition armour. At the centre of it all, his failure at shedding his lyrium addiction. He stood, shoulders hunched, holding an empty flask of lyrium, next to a great desk strewn with troop reports. He’d failed. She could feel the resentment, the crushing defeat weighing him down, the anger at himself. Worthless.

Tears welled in her eyes as she approached him - the man he used to be. His blond hair curled atop his handsome face. Despite the hunch, he stood tall in his armour next to her. She took the flask from his hand and dropped it to the floor. She took his face in her hands. His eyes locked onto hers. He frowned.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lilim.”

“Your voice... do I know you?”

“Not yet, but we have met.” She looked around. “Is this Skyhold?”

“It is.”

She smiled at him. “I’ve always hoped I’d see it someday.” His hand reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Torturing yourself.” He stepped away from her. She grabbed his hand to keep him from walking away. “You’re not ready to let that go, though. Are you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s alright. Let’s take care of that nightmare, first. You need to sleep. Real sleep.” She focused on the room. The walls disappeared, the scenery changed. The colours changed to a faded green, tinge. The fade revealed itself little by little. The Commander disappeared. Where’d he’d stood a moment ago, a demon hovered. It sneered at her through an empty socket.

“There you are,” she spat. She took a step forward. Energy gathered around her. She projected it as she stepped toward the demon and it moved away from her. It hissed but kept on retreating. “Out. Come back here, and I’ll send you to the void.” It screeched and, for a moment, she thought it might leave of its own volition. It spun and flew up, sending a cold volley at her. She brought up a barrier to defend herself as she released the power she’d been gathering. The demon crushed in on itself and disintegrated. She called out for a spirit of faith. The spirit who answered surprised her. Unlike most spirits who took on an amorphous shape, this one looked like a young boy with blonde hair, wearing dark dirty leathers and a large brimmed hat. The Commander would need all the help he could get. If this spirit could help, she would gladly accept.

 

She awoke from the dream. She walked over to Cullen as he slept. He’d relaxed his posture. Even his frown has gone. She nodded in approval. Maybe. Just maybe.

 

He awoke several hours later. She’d managed to grab some sleep as well. Although he’d rested, his body, now awake, faced severe lyrium withdrawal. He’d be drenched in cold sweat, chronic pain and migraines would ravage through his body. There would only be so much she could do to help him through. The tea would help, so would the healing, but a lot of it would depend on him. Being able to sleep without nightmares would help him heal, but he’d have to survive being awake for it to matter.

She brought him some tea. He drank it himself as she sang. His head sank into the headrest, his eyes closed. She ran her fingers through his hair, detangling what she could. His jaw was clenched. His head leaned in her direction. He reached a trembling hand to her. It shook with tremors but she held it as long as he asked. She called out to the spirits to heal him during the worst bouts of pain. She was drained by the time he fell back to sleep but she smiled at him.

 

The week continued much the same, through bouts of painful wakefulness and sleep. She took some time to write to Leliana to let her know.

 

_Sister Nightingale,_

_He fights bravely. There are brief moments of clarity where I can see the lion in his eyes again. It gives me hope. He’s survived longer now than anyone I’ve ever cared for. Thank you for the lyrium, it helps greatly. We wouldn’t make as much progress without it._

_Keep us in your prayers,_

_-Lilim_

 

She took the large pot off the fireplace and dumped the boiling water into the bath she’d been filling for the last hour. She called to Cullen. He’d been more and more responsive to her voice. Although he hadn’t spoken yet outside of his dream, she could feel that his grasp on reality was getting stronger by the day. She helped him sit up. His body spasmed with tremors but he looked at her. “I think a bath would make you feel a whole lot better, yes?” She took his shirt off and threw it to the floor. Time for a new one. They scuttled towards the bath. He shivered uncontrollably as she removed his pants and small clothes. She slung his arm over her shoulders as they eased him into the bath.

She began to sing as she soaped his shoulders, neck and arms. She massaged his muscles. He’d put on a touch of weight since he’d come, but not much, still very much a shadow of his former self. She grabbed a pitcher of water and doused his hair. She ran her fingers through his scalp, running soap through the tousles until the water ran clear. His fists still clenched and unclenched with spasms, but his brow had relaxed. She grabbed some scissors to cut his hair.

“Don’t stop.”

She froze in surprise. She realized she’d stopped singing as she’d begun focusing on cutting his hair. She cleared her throat and resumed her song. After she’d finished with his hair, she moved the bench to sit next to him. His eyes half opened to see her. “Would you like some tea?” She asked. “For the migraine?” He shook his head. “May I give you a shave? Or at least trim your beard?” He nodded and she grabbed the scissors first. She clipped chunks close to the skin until the beard became more manageable for the razor. She scraped it against his skin in long strokes from the throat to his jawline at first, then down from his cheeks and finally around his mouth and chin, being careful around the scar above his upper lip.

“There you are,” she said. She wiped his face with a hot cloth and called on the spirits to give him strength. “Let’s get you out and into fresh clothes.” After they managed to get him out she dried him with a towel quickly. She helped him with the shirt and pants before getting him back into a fresh set of sheets on the bed. She handed him some tea and placed a bowl of soup on his bed stand. He managed both before falling asleep. She gathered the dirty clothes and bedsheets to have them washed later. Perhaps burned.

 

The next morning, Lilim thought a solid breakfast may be in order. She scrambled some eggs and toasted some bread. Cullen woke up looking hungry. She smiled at his shaven face and short hair as she brought his plate. “Don’t you look handsome.” He had half a giggle as he ate. Her smile stretched even further.

“Why?” He croaked between mouthfuls. Her eyebrows rose in question. “Why help me?”

She took some time to answer. “My father was a templar.” She cleared his plate and brought him some tea. He put the cup on the night stand. “My mother died when I was very young. I took over most of the household chores while he attended his duties. The lyrium took him when I was a teenager. I watched him go through the madness until there was nothing left of him. He was a good man. He deserved better. I started helping addicts a few years after my magic manifested.” She smirked. “Don’t like your tea?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s... horrible.”

She laughed. “I’ll pull back on the blood lotus. It is bitter.”

“What is your name?”

“Lilim.” He frowned. “We’ve met, though it might feel like a bit of a dream now. You have friends who care very much about you. They heard about me. Arranged to send you here after Harding found you.”

“Harding?”

“Yes. One of Nightingale’s agents, I understand.” She touched his forehead for temperature. “Get some rest, I’ll be right here.” He took her hand in his. She sat next to him on the bed and ran her hand through his hair.

“Thank you.” She kissed his forehead before beginning a song her father had sung to her at times when he’d been happy. She sent a wave of healing through him.

 

The next few weeks passed, every day a struggle to get through, but less so each day all the same. Solid food helped him regain strength, but it was harder to keep down at first. Lilim had to modify the tea to add more ginger and mint. She put in a touch of honey as well to ease the taste and removed most of the blood lotus since he seemed in control of his emotions. They began to walk outside a few times each day to work his limbs. The sun on his face brought some colour back to his cheeks. She healed whenever she could but she’d had to stop the lyrium. Too much could cause problems for a mage, just as much as a templar.

On the sixth week since he’d arrived, Lilim received a message addressed to him. She passed it to him once he’d awakened. “My sister Mia,” he said. “My nephew has been ill, she apologizes for being unable to come.”

“Of course. She must be happy to hear of your progress. You should write back.”

He nodded. Despite a migraine that had been plaguing him all day, he took a long look at Lilim’s features. The circles under her brown eyes were deep, her hollow cheeks never filled. Ragged with pain and hallucinations, he’d failed to notice that while he gained strength, she seemed to be losing hers. She hummed songs unconsciously all day long as she went about her chores and the sound soothed his soul. “I have a favour to ask,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. She came to sit next to him in case he needed help to stand. He took her hand in his but didn’t move. “I’d like you to get some rest.”

She straightened his shirt absent-mindedly. “Do you know you’re the first one? The first one to make it, I mean.” His eyes locked into hers. “After all these years, countless men and women, you are the first I’ve been able to bring back from the edge.” She looked away, unable to hold back tears. “So many lives wasted. I tried with everything I could, but all I could give was a little comfort.”

“It might not feel that way, but I can tell you it helped them more than you know.”

She sobbed at his words. She kissed him on the cheek and stood up to resume her chores. He didn’t think she would rest as he’d asked. The best he could do for her was to heal quickly and be on his way. The cravings and withdrawal still crippled him but he wouldn’t waste her efforts for him.

 

Another week came and went. The daily walks became longer and longer. He could handle most of his own needs, despite the tremors in his hands. The migraines, nausea, and chronic pain still plagued him daily but he could function. On the other hand, Lilim seemed weaker by the day. She tried to hide it as best she could, but he’d have to have been blind not to notice the tone of her skin and the way her hands clutched everything too tightly.

She stood up to move the stew from the fire. She stopped midway, her hand to her forehead, wobbling in place. Cullen reached her just in time to stop her fall against the table. Her knees buckled. She’d fainted. He held her on the floor. He was too weak to take her to her bed. Her eyes fluttered open. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

She sat up, still clinging to his shoulder for balance. She nodded. “Lungs. No healing can cure it, whatever it is.” She struggled to stand. “I hoped I’d have more time.”

“How long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Any day now. I think.”

“Then let me help you.” She considered his request but consented.

 

He took on her daily chores under her protest at first. They walked whenever she could, but she became more and more bedridden as the days passed. She directed him on a tea to help her breathe. It helped for a day or two. After that, it became difficult for her to speak. Each breath dragged through her throat. Sleeping became impossible. Cullen sat with her on the fourth day. She’d dozed for a moment and had awoken to him singing her father’s song. Tear welled up in her eyes yet her smile warmed his heart. She listened to him with her eyes closed. Her hand held his tight.

“A treasure.” Cullen leaned his forehead against hers, his own tears falling now. “Let the past go... Cullen. Be happy. Don’t waste...” she was taken by a fit of coughing.

“It isn’t fair,” he said.

“It never is.”

He cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her. A soft, gentle kiss goodbye. Her eyes closed. Her breathing grew sporadic, then stopped altogether. He held her for a long time, rocking her as he sang.

 

_Leliana,_

_I leave Val Chevin for Tevinter where I will meet with Dorian to provide what help I can give him against Solas’ efforts. Lilim’s affairs were in order and her funeral taken care of. I don’t know what favours you called in to have a retinue of templars come for the procession, but I am thankful. She deserved no less. I intend to make the best of the time she gave me._

_I can never repay you or Scout Harding for finding me and sending me to her. I can scarce recall the past year. I’m sure it’s best that I don’t._

_Forever grateful,_

_-Cullen_


	2. Chapter Two

Enaste set down the plates in front of the master, then his guests, one at a time. The plates made not a sound as they were set, not a drop of the flowing au jus spilled or even spread to the rim. Her master would have reprimanded her later if it had. He always found a way to ensure she remembered what was expected. She would not give him the satisfaction.

“Thank you” said the former Commander of the Inquisition, Cullen Rutherford, his voice barely above a whisper as she placed his down. She inclined her head in acknowledgement without making eye contact, though she could feel his concerned stare linger as she retreated. Southerners were always uncomfortable around the indentured. She had been briefed before the meeting by her master, Magister Alcyntus, on the guests that would be gracing their household - their names, and a brief background. She knew the other gentleman as Magister Dorian Pavus, also formerly of the Inquisition, now ambassador to Orlais for the Imperium. He had made a name for himself as a voice against corruption and blood magic in the Imperium, often drawing ire, but had stood strong in the year following his return to Tevinter. Word was he’d narrowly escaped more than a few attempts on his life as a result of his convictions, though she herself suspected that his connections had more to do with it.

“Enaste is beautiful, isn’t she?” Her master extended a hand in her direction pointedly as he looked into the Commander’s eyes with a smirk. “My only servant,” he continued, “she will have it no other way, you see. She is extremely resourceful, of course. I’m told she is also quite... skilled, if you should like to have her for some private time after our discussion?”

The warrior choked down the bite he had been chewing before clearing his throat in an obvious effort to hide his disgust with the notion as Enaste quietly refilled the wine glasses. “No, thank you, that... we must return promptly after I’m afraid.”

Magister Pavus laughed as he sipped his wine. “I’m afraid my Southern friend has rather traditional thoughts on relations, Magister Alcyntus. He means no offence to the lady.”

Enaste stepped to her master’s side, her head low and eyes down. He nodded and she left the room. She crossed the hallway before turning into the kitchen, her hands balled into fists. Oh yes, Magister Alcyntus knew just how to remind her of her “status”. She took a sip of water as she reached for the oven doors. The flaked pastry inside wafted out a delicious aroma of cinnamon and sugar. Ready. She pulled it out to allow for cooling and set to prepare the cream and coffee.

She’d never met Southerners before. Why Commander Cullen accompanied Magister Pavus, Enaste couldn’t begin to guess, however she knew that the Inquisition had disbanded in a flurry a few years back, amidst rumours of Qunari and Elven spy infiltrators during negotiations. Her own problems seemed rather asinine in comparison, she admitted, yet what could an indentured elf such as her ever contribute to the greater problems of the world? Enough just to stay alive.

The voices from the dining room reminded her it should be time to clear the plates and she headed back, her steps soft as a cat’s. “We are hoping someone might have more information on these orbs” said Pavus. “We were told you have quite a collection of magical curiosities. Perhaps you might know some of the lore?”

Her master nodded, shifting back to sip his wine as she collected the plates and cutlery. “I have heard of them, yes.” Enaste balanced the china on one arm as she reached for the dining room door, catching a glance from the Commander as she did so. His gaze shifted back to her master smoothly, his expression carefully hidden this time.

Good, she thought, quick study. You couldn’t deny the man had charm, she supposed, but that would only get him so far in the Imperium, where the most venomous vipers were often the most beautiful. She set the dishes in the tub for washing after gathering the leftovers. She set the coffee, cups, a carving knife and dessert on a tray and made her way back once more. Muffled voices came from the dining room as she approached. She entered with the hairs on her neck on end.

Magister Alcyntus stood from his chair, his hand bleeding, staring intently at his guests who held their throats, frozen in place, choking on what she could only assume was some kind of magic. “Master, I’m sorry, I didn’t” as she turned to leave.

“Stop, child” he said. “Set down the tray and fetch some rope. These two have an appointment to keep.”

Enaste didn’t know much about magic, but she knew enough to realize her master was exerting himself. Keeping the two guests prisoners demanded his full attention. He needed her help or he would eventually falter and they would be released. “Yes, master”, she said as she set the tray down next to him. He didn’t notice the knife missing from it, or wonder where it might be, so intent was he on his prey. When the blade slid through the back of his neck, between the top two verterbrea, he sputtered out blood and cursed her name. He fell to the ground with an unceremonious thump as the two guests were released.

She stared at him for several jagged breaths until his body spasmed and stilled. She stooped down and took an item from his pocket before she looked back up at the two men as they regained their own breaths, their eyes aghast. “Why?” Coughed Magister Pavus, his throat still painful. “Why would you help us?”

“I didn’t. I helped myself.” She sneered and spat on her master’s remains, dropping the knife to the ground. She looked back up at them. “I imagine you’ll be wanting to look through his collection upstairs?”

“That... would be most helpful” replied Dorian as he bowed slightly. At least he was polite, she thought as she led them out of the room.

“Is no one going to find him?” Asked the Commander.

She shook her head without looking back. “He has guards outside, but they do not come into the mansion without cause or a request. He was not lying about my being his only servant, or my wanting it to remain that way, though he mistook my motives.”

“Is someone moving against him?”

She stopped and turned to look into the Magister’s eyes, her silver eyes flashing with anger. “I am no assassin. I saw my chance and I took it, that is all.”

He raised his hands in appeasement. “I understand. My apologies, and thank you. I don’t know where we might have ended up without your intervention.”

She shrugged and turned back to head up the stairs. “I don’t know. My master may not have thought me capable of killing him, but he was not careless. I don’t know much, but I do know how to access his safe.” They entered the master’s quarters, the two men taking stock of his library and various curiosities about the room. Enaste walked to a large painting and slid it sideways, revealing a hidden safe behind. There was no handle, seemingly no hinges. She held the locket she had removed from Alcynthus in one hand and slid her index finger in a pattern on the door, light as a feather. The door lit up, opening with a click.

“There” she said as she rummaged through, taking the orb, its ridged surface warmer to her touch than she’d expected, and throwing it to the two men as she kept searching through the papers that remained. Commander Cullen almost missed but caught the item, handing it to Dorian with a suspicious frown. “Not a fan of magic, Commander Rutherford?” She giggled.

“Let’s just say I’ve seen what these orbs can do.”

Dorian held it up, inspecting it with awe. “Andraste’s nickers! I’d heard good old Alcyntus had seen one of these, but never thought we would actually get to hold it when we made this appointment.” The globe seemed ordinary enough to Enaste. No magic seemed to emanate from it in all the years she had seen her master stare at it. It must be of some import if Pavus had risked coming to meet him.

“What will you do?” Asked the Commander, his gaze on Enaste.

She grabbed a stack of papers and headed to the fireplace, throwing them in with a flick of her wrist. She shrugged as she watched her indenture contract turn to ash, a light smile on her face. “I suppose I will be leaving. I should be able to make it out of the Imperium before they find me.”

“You could come with us” said Dorian, still studying the item.

The Commander looked at him with a frown. “Is that wise?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “I can provide shelter at my mansion until we can secure a safe way out of the Imperium for her. It’s the least we can do, yes?”

Enaste eyed them with a side glance. “I... suppose it’s better than what little I’d planned up to this point. Provided,”she continued as she shifted her eyes to the Southerner, “of course, that it’s not an inconvenience?” He crossed his arms in reply.

“Oh don’t mind him” Dorian said as he slid the orb in a pouch on his belt. “Southerners are a suspicious bunch, but he means well. Shall we?”

“We need to... set a scene. Would you bring him here? I will clean the dining room and return in a moment.”

Enaste nodded as she led the way back down the stairs. The men headed to the dining room and herself to her own quarters. She grabbed a pouch and filled it with a few clothes and personal belongings before returning to the kitchen to gather cleaning equipment. She could hear the two struggling with getting the body up the stairs. She followed as soon as she was finished, wiping blood wherever she found it. They’d placed him on the floor tile by the fireplace. “Good. Now burn him.”

Dorian and the Commander looked down but didn’t comment. It was clear enough to see that she meant to indicate that some ritual had gone horribly wrong. It wouldn’t fool the Magisterium, but without proof nothing would be done to compromise house Pavus, or his Southern friend. Dorian cast a spell and the Magister went up in flames.

They proceeded toward the front of the house once it was certain the charred remains wouldn’t divulge the cause for his death. The two men tensed as Enaste approached the guards.

“Magister Alcyntus requests privacy this evening for his studies. He has arranged my services for the Commander for the night as a courtesy and wishes my return upon morning and no sooner.” They nodded, with a sly grin to the Commander who kept a stony expression until they were well on their way in the carriage.

“Was that really necessary?” He groaned finally.

She shrugged but didn’t look back at him. “I couldn’t think of another reason why my master would send me out at this time, or with you.”

“Why him?” Dorian asked. “Why not me?”

She snickered in response. “I may have appeared as such, master Pavus, but I am neither stupid, nor unobservant.”

Dorian seemed to struggle for a moment, but relented and laughed. “This... happens a lot, does it?”

She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him coolly. “Surely you are no stranger to this kind of arrangement for slaves, Magister Pavus?”

He crossed his arms with a serious expression. “I am not naive enough to think it doesn’t happen, but if you must know, I have never made such... arrangements. My house staff have mostly worked out their contracts during their time with my father and now serve willingly, as employees, not slaves. Those few who still have time left are treated with the same dignity.”

She lifted her chin but remained quiet. She nodded to him and continued to eye the street as they passed through Minrathous.


	3. Chapter Three

Enaste was shown to a small room in the servants’ quarters by an older elf named Loren. He instructed her that Dorian would attend to her at a later time, and that a bath would be drawn for her after she’d had something to eat. She was advised to remain in the “quarters” until such time as Magister Pavus would see her, for her own safety, of course. Loren left and came back with a plate, no chattier than he had been the first time. He told her the bath would be ready in half of an hour, the room down the hall to the right.

She ate the food offered to her and took a long bath to consider the evening’s events. She was free. Sort of. Her master was dead, the contract that enslaved her destroyed. She had no intentions of staying in the Pavus household, slave or no, but for the moment her options were limited. Whatever transportation they might find for her to leave the Imperium might be much safer than trekking through the roads alone. She was not defenceless. She’d had to learn to stay alive and relatively unharmed in the Alcyntus household, but a roving band of Qunari would have her bound and on her way to Par Vollen to serve as Viddathari before she could bat an eye. And there were many such bands patrolling, scouting and causing mayhem these days. The Qunari had intensified their attacks since the Inquisition had disbanded some years ago. Their reasons were unknown, but the effects were straining on the Imperium, no matter how much the Magisterium liked to pretend otherwise.

She used the soaps and oils provided to cleanse and exited the bath. She headed back to her room to wait for Magister Pavus’ good graces.

 

“And she just... handed it to you?” Asked an incredulous Leliana. “Just like that?”

“Actually, she tossed it, but... yes” Dorian replied. “I realize what it sounds like but it’s not exactly unheard of for a slave to become disenchanted with their masters, especially mistreated ones.”

“She doesn’t look mistreated.”

“No, she wouldn’t either,” he crossed arms. “She was a prized possession. A literate Elven slave who could run his house and care for him by herself. A beautiful, skilled lover, apparently, who he could dole out for favours on a whim. Damaging her would have lessened her value, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t abused.”

Cullen crossed his arms, a reticent frown on his face. “I would have to agree with Dorian on this one. He was quick enough to offer her services even to a Southerner. I am not convinced she’s not more than a mere serving maid, all the same.”

“Does it make a difference?” Retorted Dorian. “All she wants is to leave the Imperium. Let’s give her what she wants. If she was a spy for someone else, let them recoup their losses. Regardless of motivation, she saved us.”

Silence fell across the room.

“Fine” Leliana conceded. “Provided there is no more information she might have on the orb, or where her previous master may have acquired it, she may go. I’ll look into her background and see if we can muddle whatever investigation will come of the whole mess. We can add her to the trip to the Nevarran border. From there, she can go her own way.”

Dorian nodded. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Good” Cullen rubbed his throat. “I’m sure you can manage? I need to forget this day ever happened.”

“Oh? Not coming to wish your new lady-friend goodnight?”

Cullen groaned and left the room.

Leliana giggled. “And his sister wonders why he is still unmarried. He’s been well?”

“He has. He keeps busy.” Leliana waved him off and Dorian headed to the staff quarters.

 

A knock at the door roused Enaste from her reading. She had found a book on the hallway table, Hard in Hightown by some Southern writer, and thought she’d give it a read. Not bad so far. She stood and opened the door to greet Dorian. She stepped back to invite him in. “Alone?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid you might have frightened our poor Cullen half to death.”

She laughed despite herself. “Bashful one, isn’t he.”

“Let’s call it ‘old fashioned’. The whole idea of slaves leaves a sour taste in his mouth.” Dorian sat on the bed. “I hope the room will do?”

Enaste crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh alright, to the point then. Is there anything you might know about the orb? Where it came from?”

“I don’t know where it came from. Alcyntus has owned the piece for a few years. It’s always been dead and dark, no matter what spells he flung at it. He spent many hours studying it. He was never in a pleasant mood after a session with it, so I doubt he ever came to any breakthroughs. He did once mumble perhaps a dreamer might change things, whatever that means. It was rare for him to comment anything in front of me. He must have been particularly frustrated that day.”

Dorian cupped his chin in his fingers. “Perhaps. Tell me, you seem to have had some education, yes? Did you ever loom through his library?”

A light smirk touched her lips. “He arranged for a tutor to teach me how to read when I was younger so I wouldn’t be swindled by merchants. I wasn’t allowed to read books, mind you. But yes, I did look through out of curiosity, even took notes on a herbal mixture for dream-sleep or some sort once. Took a while to get it right though” she added pensive.

“What on earth for?”

She shrugged. “To save myself pain. I used it on some of the men I was... loaned to. A sip of wine, and before they’d know it, they were sleeping, dreaming wild dreams of me as their imaginations allowed. They wake up groggy and tired, you tell them what a great, big man they are, and they leave with glowing reports for my master.”

Dorian laughed out loud. “Truly?”

“If the tales pleases them, most men believe it in my experience.”

“Most?”

“Not all would drink. It did take some time to get the dosages right. I am skilled with herbs, but no alchemist.” She shrugged, but her expression had sobered.

“I see. But nothing of note on the orb?”

“Not that I can recall, my lord. My opportunities to read were limited so I focused on more practical material.”

“It sounds like you made the most of your time there, but he was not a kind man. Why stay?”

“I was born while my mother worked her indentured time for him. It killed her. After she passed, I had to earn my keep, I was still young and too afraid to be out on my own. I was only a young teenager then, but I knew his mansion and habits as the back of my own hand. He purchased two more slaves, older Elven women, already frail with age. I knew they wouldn’t survive his care long either. I argued to take over their time, by myself, along with extra so I could send them a little each week for food. I had seven years left, though they no longer need the food. They passed a couple of years ago.”

Dorian grew serious. “That was very brave of you.”

“Foolish too, but I was young and twenty years didn’t seem like a long time,” she laughed. “He’d hired them on purpose, you see. He knew my heart was soft then, fresh with mother’s passing. He was cunning, I’ll give him that.”

“I take it you didn’t know his plans for us?”

She shook her head. “He briefed me on broad basics of who you were before dinner, but no more. I knew some of your accomplishments in the Inquisition, and some of the rumours floating about you in the Imperium, but nothing that might help you with the orb. I was surprised by his boldness in the dining room. I always thought him a coward.”

Dorian stood gracefully up. “Thank you for all your help. We’ll be discussing how to safely get you out of the Imperium in the morning, it may take some time to iron out the details. Please make yourself at home in the meanwhile. There is a library in the main house you are most welcome to, and if you need anything, Loren will be happy to help.”

She giggled. “I’m sure.”

Dorian made his way to the door and nodded her goodnight before closing it behind him. Enaste heaved a sigh. What had she gotten herself into?


	4. Chapter Four

Enaste awoke to the typical sounds of a busy staff quarters. The household was rising - it wouldn’t do for anyone to wait for their breakfast. Free or not, Enaste knew the rhythm well. She began to rise to get dressed before she realized she was actually a guest. She pondered what that might feel like but couldn’t stand to hear the bustle outside without helping. The work might help her feel less... restless.

She braided her raven hair and washed her face in the basin before heading to the kitchen where she planned on offering her assistance. Faces turned to her without a word as everyone stopped their chores. She bowed her head to show respect. “Might I help?” After a moment, one of Elven maids waved her over and pointed at the coffee apparatus.

“Know how to work one of these?”

“Yes, thank you.” She set to work, swift and efficient, pleased at the organization in the kitchen. Someone had done good work setting up. She fetched and boiled the water, roasted the delicate beans and ground them just so. She sprinkled them into the filter and waited for the main cook’s nod before pouring the hot water on. She allowed the grounds to bloom for a moment, then finished the pour with slow, steady hands.

Loren stormed into the kitchen. “Madam, Magister Pavus is waiting for you in the dining room. I have been looking everywhere.”

Enaste bowed her head to the old seneschal. “I apologize for the inconvenience, kind sir. I meant only to help. Lead the way?” Loren scooped the coffee tray, giving the brew a dubious sniff. He frowned but didn’t comment before heading out. Enaste stole a look at the main cook who winked at her with a smirk. She supposed it might be as close to a compliment as she would ever get from the man.

He led the way into a parlour where Dorian was in conversation with Commander Cullen. They stopped as she came in, Cullen standing up in greeting before sitting back down as she took a seat. Loren handed her a cup of coffee, then to the men and left the room.

“My word” Dorian exclaimed as he drank from cup, eyes closed, “is it possible old Loren has finally figured out coffee?”

Enaste repressed a giggle as she sipped. Coffee had always been a guest privilege. She’d tasted it before, of course, but only to improve her results. Her own eyes closed at the delicate taste and warmth.

“My lady, we are discussing the safest way to get you out of the Imperium, if that is still your wish” the Commander said. “With the current state of things with the Qunari, I’m sure you can guess it won’t be a simple matter.” He seemed sincere enough, she thought.

“Of course. I also realize it might be too much to ask. I’ve been considering it, but it may be more reasonable for me to simply find my own way.”

Dorian set down his cup. “Not unless you prefer it, of course. We might have a small group headed to the Nevarran border in a fortnight. If we keep you here until then, it might be your best option. The group would be enough to discourage bandits, and I would feel better knowing we’d helped you get that far. You are free to go at any time, but do consider it?”

She nodded. “I’ll think on it, thank you.”

“We’ll receive a visit from the guard about your old master within the morning, I’d imagine. They’ll be wishing to speak with you. You’ve not left my estate, due to my intent to negotiate the purchase of the remainder of your contract from your master. I’ve already sent a messenger with the request to the Alcyntus estate. You understand?” She nodded. “In the meanwhile,” Dorian continued, “might I ask you a question?”

“As opposed to what you’ve been doing so far?” The Commander snickered.

“Touche. I mean to say a personal question?”

She lifted a brow. “You may ask. I may answer.”

He smiled. “Such wit. You’ll fit right in. Have you ever shown any magical affinities?”

Both of her eyebrows raised this time, clearly surprised. “What?”

“You mentioned a brew yesterday, for sleep-dreaming and it got me curious. Were you somehow directing the dreams? Making sure they would have ‘glowing reports’ for your old master?” Commander Cullen grew visibly uncomfortable at the topic, shifting in his seat.

“I... don’t know. I suppose I might have steered the dreams, in a way. What could that have to do with magic?”

He tilted his head. “There is a rare talent among magic users called Dreamers, or Somniari here in Tevinter. They have the ability to enter the Fade without lyrium. Some can shape it, or influence the dreams of others. It’s not my field of expertise, but your description of your particular tactic made me wonder.”

“I remember my old master mentioned dreamers, but I wouldn’t know more, Magister Pavus. All I can say is I’ve never exhibited any magic in the traditional sense, at least.”

“Would you care to try your herbal concoction on me?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea” she said.

“I would tend to agree, Dorian” added Cullen. “At least not without someone vetting the mixture for us.”

Enaste crossed her arms and glared at him with a frown. “I wouldn’t poison him, if that’s what you’re implying, Commander.” He returned her stare with a level look that told her he wasn’t convinced.“Besides,” she continued with an eye roll, “this is not something I’m willing to do. I did it to spare myself pain, not to entertain you.”

Dorian crossed his arms but nodded. “As you wish, but might I at least interest you in some tomes on dreamers? You should at least get an idea of what you might be dealing with. The fade is a dangerous place, you shouldn’t go into it blind or without even knowing...”

“I suppose it doesn’t hurt to read.” She stood up. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you,” he smiled.

She left the room, following the hallway until she reached a common room with seating chairs. She sat, staring into nothingness, her fists clenched tight. He had to be wrong. She ran a hand through her dark hair. She shook her head. She was no mage. She headed back to her room. A pair of thick, heavy tomes had been left on her bed. Magister Pavus had likely had them delivered as they sat and talked. He’d known she’d refuse, and he’d known she’d get back to her room, intent on leaving. He’d also known she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from reading those tomes. Whether she took them with her or stayed was up to her.

She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the first one.

 

A knock at her door. Loren led her to the parlour where guardsmen were in discussion with Pavus about their evening at the Alcyntus mansion. He stood as she entered. She kept her eyes low and waited for them to address her. “Ah, there you are. Enaste, it appears poor old Alcyntus had a... misfortune. Could you explain to the guards here what happened during our visit last night?”

Enaste gave a coy account of an uneventful dinner that ended shortly before dessert. Her master had wished to resume some studies he’d been delving in for the night. She’d been sent here as entertainment for the Southern Commander. Magister Pavus had wished to retain her services and asked her to remain in an attempt to negotiate for her contract with her master. She’d been waiting for word on whether he had been successful or not.

They asked her a few questions about her tenure with her old master, but seemed unsurprised at her tale. Pavus waved her off and she left, closing the door softly behind her. As she headed down the hall, her eyes fixed ahead, she crossed paths with the Commander, who no doubt would be asked for his own version. She gave him a slight nod, which he returned, no smile touching his lips. He didn’t enjoy lying on her account. She couldn’t blame him.

Enaste looked around. She had read until the small hours and sleep had claimed her. She was in a clearing, surrounded by wildflowers, wind blowing through her hair. She was fairly certain she was dreaming... but was she in the fade? This whole dreamer business had her on edge. She didn’t know if she could trust her sleep. According to what she’d read, dreamers had an innate capacity to enter the fade and interact with it in their dreams. How could she know whether it was just a dream, or more? Was there a difference?

She picked a flower, admiring the petals. On a whim, she decided it might be nice if it were a deep blue rather than the pink and yellow and smiled as she watched the colour shift. She tossed it in the air and it turned into a bird, flying off into the distance. She giggled despite herself. Just a dream where she could change what she wanted.

“Who are you?”

The voice startled her despite its softness. A man stood at the edge of the clearing, holding a staff between his hands. She stepped closer carefully to see who addressed her. An elf. Broad shoulders, bald, piercing eyes in an elegant face.

“This is my dream”, she retorted. “Who are you?”

A hint of a smile touched his lips. “No one of import. Just a wanderer, attracted here by a dream. Do you not know where you are?”

“I... don’t”, she admitted.

He tilted his head. “But this is, as you said, your dream.”

“Urgh, cryptic garbage!” She waved a frustrated hand at her surroundings and turned to walk away. The landscape disappeared as she did so, the path beneath her feet turning to stone, walls rising. A door ahead. Some sort of... hold? A shuffle behind her made her spin around. The elf was coming closer. “You’re still here.”

“I am. Changing the landscape doesn’t change who visits.” He stopped a few feet away from her studying her features. “You should have care to affect where you visit, dreamer, lest you attract less... friendly visitors.”

She frowned. “Are you a dreamer?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Enara. And yours?”

“You lie well, dreamer” he smirked. “Not unwise, considering. Do you understand where you are?”

She shook her head. “Not truly, though enough to know to be wary of what I may run into.”

“You should be more concerned about what you may attract with such displays. Other dreamers are not your only concerns here.”

“Not helpful.” She took a look around before passing through the door. The room adjoining was a library, stocked with books from floor to rafters. Some littered the floors and tables strewn about. Someone had come here in the past... or was the room simply this way because she pictured it such? Her earlier readings had hinted that perception and expectations were the foundation of what one saw in the fade. She wondered what having no expectations might mean. She approached the first shelf, running her finger along the spines.

“Is it knowledge you seek?” Asked the other dreamer.

“Perhaps.” She glanced back at him, leaning against the door frame as he watched her. “Am I truly the most interesting thing here that you’d stay and pester me?”

He laughed out loud. “I’ve traveled much of the fade. Although there are many more interesting things, you are novel here. There are so very few of us.”

“So you’re what? Lonely? In case it wasn’t obvious, I’d like you to leave.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know what you are.”

“Being rude won’t help that.”

“I doubt being nice would either.” She turned to face him, fists clenched. “I don’t know who, or what you are, and I’ve no desire to make friends. What do you want?”

“I felt ripples through the fade and wanted to see for myself who or, or what, caused it. I never thought it might be another dreamer. You seem... inexperienced. Have your magical abilities only just begun to manifest?”

“I am not a mage.”

“That’s... unlikely. Do you mean you haven’t been trained?”

“I mean what I said. I have no magic. I don’t understand any of this.”

He frowned. “Truly?”

She took a step toward him, bristling, and the walls seemed to shiver as she did. “I’ve wasted enough time on you.” She extended a slow hand toward him, seemingly gathering the air of the room through her fingers, the room extending and shifting to follow as she stretched it. The air around the elf thrummed in his ears, his feet turning to lead. The weight of the world felt like it had been moved onto his shoulders, thick as mud. His eyes grew large in surprise. Anger flashed into them as they glared at her.

She curled her hand into a fist and he felt his lungs empty, his ribs crushing him. “Get. OUT!” She screamed as she pulled her hand down sharp and the world disappeared around him.

 

Solas started awake, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He was back in his bed, safe and sound, but could still feel the panic of running out of air she’d created around him before somehow throwing him out of the fade. The anger faded as a smile reached his lips. She was in Tevinter, that much he knew. He would reach out to his agents. He would find her, whoever she was.


	5. Chapter Five

Enaste had awoken as soon as the other dreamer disappeared. She didn’t know what she’d done, really, and the place she’d been in had stirred with energy after she’d realized he was gone. Bad energy. It was still in the early hours. The house was quiet, everyone still slept soundly. She washed her face, dressed and headed to the study with the two tomes to read by candlelight. Upon leaving the staff quarters though, she veered to the kitchen to make coffee. She wasn’t going back to sleep.

The sun rose, sparking deep orange reflections onto the walls as she took notes, wrote down questions and studied the material. Every page seemed to bring more questions, but there was knowledge, albeit cryptic. She suspected this was due to very nature of the fade, but also a lack of dedicated students that the authors described as a disservice to magic. Fireballs did sound a lot more fun.

Clanging sounds rang up from the courtyard. She peeked out the window over a sip of her coffee to see Commander Cullen in full armour out practicing sword drills on a target dummy. The blade arced in strong, confident strokes, his arm moving with determination hit after hit. What little she knew of weapons she’d learnt to manage the Magister’s household -butcher swine or fowl before preparing them. She could kill unsuspecting prey, but fighting was different, she knew.

She could feel her mind tiring from the hours of study. Perhaps something physical would help keep her awake. It wouldn’t hurt to ask if he might be willing to teach her.

 

Cullen heard steps behind him but didn’t stop. The kitchen maids had been watching in the window and he assumed it was one of them come to offer him some breakfast. Again. He kept up the pace, hoping she’d return to her duties before long. He could feel eyes watching, however, and after a few minutes, he took a moment to look back at who it might be. “Lady Enaste”, he stretched his shoulders back to relieve some tension, surprised, “may I help you with anything?”

“I apologize for interrupting,” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “I was wondering if, maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, you might be able to show me some... defensive... urgh...” She hid her eyes in her palms. She wanted to slap the smug smirk off his face, but she didn’t entirely blame him for finding her ridiculous at the moment. She sighed. “I don’t know how to defend myself. I thought it might be a good idea to learn a few things. If you’ve a mind.”

His expression softened, his eyes more serious but his smile lingered. Her gaze drew to the scar on his upper lip. He took a moment to consider, looking her over as he sheathed his sword. “It might, though I think perhaps daggers would be more to your liking?”

“Are you making a joke, Commander Cullen? I’m shocked.”

His throaty giggle brought a full grin on her face, the first in a very long time. He took a long knife out from a scabbard at his waist and handed it to her, hilt first.

 

“You do realize everyone in the kitchen hates you now, yes?” Dorian’s voice cut in between Cullen’s instructions. Enaste stopped to look at the magister, puzzled.

“What?”

“Don’t mind him” Cullen waved a hand. “Strike. Low and hard, then swing back. Mind your footwork. Again.”

“Earthly pursuits?” Asked Dorian.

Cullen shrugged as he watched her strokes. “Watch your posture, feet apart, back supple but maintain a strong core for balance. Again.” He turned to his friend. “Lady Enaste asked for some help in self defence. I thought it was good idea, considering.”

Dorian nodded. “Why not? I read some of your notes in the study, I hope you don’t mind. Extensive. Not sleeping well?”

Enaste struck, dodged, swung, struck, focusing on her body placement. They’d been at it for over an hour, the Commander’s pace relentless. Her arms were beginning to shake but she didn’t want to quit before he asked. “Not really” she replied. She twisted her torso to swing up and strike at the dummy, the dagger hit the armour and her grip slipped, her hand slicing itself on the blade across the palm. “Argh!”

The Commander grabbed her wrist in one hand, looking at the wound. He pulled a clean handkerchief and wrapped her hand. “Good” he said with smile as she looked back puzzled. “The first cut hurts the most. You’ve done well for your first lesson, despite all the tripping. It’s enough for today.”

“You were waiting for that, weren’t you?”

“The fear of cutting themselves holds students back. It’s always easier after the first one.”

Enaste snuck a peek at the kitchen window where at least three heads turned back to their chores. She pulled her hand away as Dorian’s laughter reminded her of his presence. “Why don’t you join us in my study for breakfast this morning, Lady Enaste? Once you’ve refreshed yourself, of course. I have a potion that will heal your cut in no time.”

“Thank you. Again tomorrow, same time?” She asked Cullen.

“As you wish.”

She left for her room without a look back toward the kitchen. She didn’t think she was imagining the glares that followed her out.

 

The two gentlemen stopped in their conversation as she came into the room. The Commander stood up until she sat down at a chair with a cup of coffee and a tart with some grapes. “So tell me,” Dorian said as he sipped his coffee, his nose wrinkled in distaste, “how goes fade dreaming?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know if that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yet you couldn’t sleep last night?”

“I did get some sleep. It wasn’t... restful. If I figure it out, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Have you decided whether to stay?”

“Seems to be safest for now, yes. If your offer still stands.”

He nodded. “Provided you’ll be so kind as to teach old Loren how to make a proper cup of coffee, yes, my offer still stands.” He put the cup down.

“I can... try. I wouldn’t want to displease him.”

“I don’t blame you, he can be a codgy old sod, but I’d be eternally grateful.” He reached into a pocket for a vial and tossed it toward her. She caught it gingerly. “Elfroot potion. It should take care of that hand for you in time for more practice tomorrow.”

Enaste gave it a sniff before taking a few sips. “Thank you. Would you happen to have more material on dreamers?” She placed the remainder in her pocket.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, though I can get more from the Minrathous archives if you’d like?”

“Please, if it isn’t too much to ask.”

“Not at all. I’m happy to help. The Guard haven’t made further contact, by the way. Let’s hope they move on.”

She stood and offered him a mild bow in thanks. “If you’ll excuse me, it seems I have a Loren to find.”

They watched her leave the room. “I’m surprised she decided to stay” Cullen said.

Dorian looked at him with a smirk. “That, my friend, is why you remain a bachelor. Women are a mystery you will never understand, no matter how obvious.”

“You sound like my sister.”

“Great minds think alike. The lady stays because she is an intelligent, resourceful woman who knows she is teetering on the edge of a knife. If she truly is a dreamer, the best place for her to learn is Tevinter. If she isn’t, she is still safer here, among my staff than she would be traveling the roads alone, a runaway slave making her way through Qunari infested lands.”

“You really believe she is a dreamer? Or are you dangling that in front of her to keep her here?”

He nodded. “I do, as a matter of fact, think that she is.”

“Why has she not shown any other magical abilities?”

“Perhaps she’s convinced herself she isn’t so strongly that she believes it. Or perhaps her only talent is the dream. That she is able to control dreams mean that she is connected to the fade. Whether she likes it or not that, makes her a mage.”


	6. Chapter Six

Enaste gritted her teeth and survived teaching old Loren how to properly measure, roast and brew coffee as she’d promised. The old elf hadn’t said a word during the ordeal but she was confident he’d been listening and could repeat the process on his own. The loathing she felt on the back of her head as she left the kitchen was palpable.

 

That night, she found herself in Alcyntus’ old mansion. She walked the halls in her old dress, the one he’d make her wear whenever he felt particularly cruel. The mansion was empty, as always. Not a soul walked its halls except for her and the magister. The great clock tick-tocked. Steps behind her. Thump, thump, thump. Enaste spun to see down the hallway but it was empty. Her pulse quickened. She walked back to the end of the hall and headed up the stairs. A door shut as she walked by. Her breath hastened in her breast. She ran into Alcyntus’ study and shut the door.

The hair on the back on her neck stood on end. She looked about the room frantic. She couldn’t see, but she could feel something in the room with her. Something closing in. The air tickled her skin. Something brushed against the back of her arm. She recoiled but there was nothing. A hand grazed her thigh. Her cheek. A snicker tickled her ear. Her eyes bulged in fear. She curled into a ball in the corner of the room. Steps ran across the room, rushing at her. Hands she couldn’t see grabbed her face. She was pinned to the floor. Spindly legs creeped up and out of the floor boards by her face. Insects reached to her with their dry, pointed hooks and crawled onto her skin. They crept up over her eyes and into her hair, burrowing themselves as she began to struggle in earnest at what was holding her. She screamed through clenched teeth, her entire body convulsing with horror.

She kicked out with her knees. Her body managed to spin around and she was able to get onto her knees, keeping her back to the wall. She shook her hair to get the insects out but they clung to every strand. She covered her eyes. She let the hands touch and grope, the insects crawl. She focused on her breathing. It’s not real. She opened her eyes. The insects had disappeared - she could no longer feel them skittering through her hair. In front of her stood a robed figure. Long arms with claws at the end of each finger. Its eyes were hidden behind a hood, but the sneer it offered gave no room for interpretation. Fear.

It crept closer, the long spider-like legs jutting out of its back clicking together in anticipation. A low, rattling cackle reverberated through its throat, elongating its lopsided grimace. “Just a dream”, she whispered. It laughed just a little louder. “Just a dream.” She repeated the sentence, over and over, trying to hold on to the words for strength, but the dread was building up. She would lose the battle for sanity if she couldn’t find something else to cling to. Anything would be better than waiting for the creature to reach and take her. She’d never seen an abomination, but she knew enough to know she didn’t want to become one... mage or no.

She grabbed a vase from the dresser next to her and shattered it with a crash against the wall. The crystal broke into a hundred pieces, carving a bloody path through her hand as she held on to some of the pieces. The pain lanced up her arm, but the demon still came. She grabbed one of the larger pieces and plunged it deep into her thigh with a swing. The edges of the crystal sliced through her palm but she didn’t let go. She tried to scream but her jaws were clenched. She twisted the shard like a door knob. Her mouth finally opened, her shriek echoing long and loud into her ears.

 

She awoke with a start in her bed, drenched in sweat and chilled with fear. She hadn’t defeated the demon, she knew. It would return. Her hand dripped with blood, the wound from her dagger reopened. She peeled the blanket off to look at her leg. The mattress was soaked with blood. She scurried out of bed and searched through her pockets for the remainder of the elfroot potion and emptied the flask. She sat on the floor while the bleeding stopped. It wasn’t enough to heal her cuts completely, but enough to keep them from hampering her too much.

By the next day, she found the staff had complained to Dorian. She was frightening them. They moved her to a room adjoining his, he said, to help if she needed it, though what help that might be, she did not know.

New clothes appeared on her bed that afternoon, along with new reading on dreamers. When she thanked him for the gifts, Dorian simply stated that new outfits always cheered him up. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could almost agree. The teal scarf was an excellent touch on his part, playing off the reflections in her black hair. How he knew her favourite colour, she couldn’t say, but she was grateful. When he asked if he might be able to keep her notes on her dream study, she was hard pressed to refuse. “So long as I can still read them?”

Of course.

She spent that afternoon going over her notes, reading and rereading passages of the two tomes, trying to get a better grasp of the material before moving on to the new material. By sunset, her eyes were beginning to itch, her lids heavy. Just a bit longer.

 

Where she was, she couldn’t say. A ruin. Pieces of it floated in the air, some upside down.In the centre of the wreckage, some distance away, lay pieces of something dark. She approached to get a better look at the object. Pieces of a whole. An orb, dark, lifeless, shattered.

“This is where it happened. The final fight.”

She looked up in surprise at the voice near her. A young man, clad in leathers, blond hair covering his eyes, hidden under a large, looming hat. “What fight?”

“The Elder One. Fought, frantic, failing. He thought himself a god, but we knew.”

“You mean the Inquisitor? This... is where she killed Corypheus?”

“Yes.”

“And this?” She asked, pointing to the broken orb.

“It wasn’t his, but he used it. It made him more. It couldn’t save him.”

“You... were there?”

“Yes.”

Enaste picked up the orb, but unlike the one she took from her master’s study, this one was cold. “Do you have a name?”

“Cole. I felt you from very far. You need help. You are very tired.”

She dropped the pieces. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Dreams, but no rest, fear, frightened, forlorn. If I could just sleep... real sleep.” He sighed. “I hear the hurt. I help.”

“How?”

“I can keep others away while you sleep. Or I can guide good spirits here to help you learn how to dream.”

“Why am I even here?”

“You are searching. The fade answers.”

“I don’t see how this helps.”

“You haven’t asked any questions.”

Enaste covered her eyes, frustrated. “How is it that I can dream?”

Shapes began to form, barely visible etchings, moving, floating. One stopped, seemingly looking at her. “You are Dreamer.”

Enaste sighed. “You don’t say... aren’t dreamers mages?”

“Yes.”

“I am not a mage.”

“Yes.”

Enaste looked at Cole, exasperated. “Let’s try something else. Why did the orb shatter?”

“It was used by the anchor, but the wrong master. It could not hold.”

“So if someone is powerful enough, they can use the orbs, but only their ‘owner’ can truly master them?”

“Yes.”

“What are the orbs?”

“Focus.”

“Can you show me what happened here?”

Before her eyes, the scene changed. The building solidified, took shape, towered by a slim, deformed creature wielding the orb, casting down blighted magic at who she assumed was the Inquisitor. Slender, beautiful and fierce, her arrows fired true at the darkspawn, supported on all sides by her friends, one of which wore brown leathers and a large hat. The fight raged until finally, Lavellan called the orb away from Corypheus with the anchor before using it to send him into the fade and closing the breach. The orb fell back to the ground. Shattered.

The deformed, blighted magister collapsed at her feet. His fingers raked at the ground, then grew still. Enaste looked at Cole. “You were there.”

“Yes. He won’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“Would you like to sleep now?”

“Will I see you again?”

“If you need me.”

She smiled. “Alright.” The light began to dim. Slowly at first, from the far edges of her vision, narrowing nearer with every breath. Her heartbeat filled her ears. She closed her eyes as darkness enveloped her.

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

She awoke shortly before dawn. Her neck and back ached from sleeping hunched over onto the desk. She groaned as she rose, but she felt better than she had in days. She headed to her room to change and prepare for her weapons practice.

Cullen pushed her hard. He knew her limits, though he seemed to spend most of his time laughing at her clumsiness. “How you’ve made it this far without falling on your own dagger is beyond me” he said after a particular manoeuvre she just couldn’t complete without tripping on her own feet. Despite her night’s sleep, she was getting tired from the work, her leg bothered her enough that she thought it might be bleeding, and her temper was beginning to flare up. She was covered in dirt, bruised all the way up her legs, and discouraged at her progress.

The glower she cast him as she stood only made him smile that smug smirk, however, which did nothing to soothe her anger. The vehement Tevene curse that flew out of her mouth as she threw the dagger at the target dummy brought a loud, collective gasp from the kitchen gallery. Cullen laughed, but raised his hands up to appease her. “Let’s stop here for today” he said, still laughing. “Or that dagger may be headed my way next.” He pointed at the dagger, planted hilt-deep into the dummy’s chest.

Enaste took a deep breath and paced a few steps. “I apologize.” She turned to face him. “I... I let my temper get the better of me. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“It’s surprising, I’ll give you that.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That I have a temper?”

He giggled. “No. The clumsiness. I... you hide it well.”

“Oh yes, a real gift.” She took a few steps closer. “The lack of sleep... I can’t seem to keep up.”

His expression grew softer, concern etched in his eyes. “I can only imagine.” He shook his head. “If you’d rather stop these sessions...”

“No.” She wished she hadn’t blurted that out so quickly. “It helps. I’m just frustrated. I hit the dirt more than that dummy.”

He nodded. “Alright. You wouldn’t be the first one to think about flinging a dagger my way.” He rubbed his neck. “You’re doing fine, by the way, tripping aside. Give yourself some credit, it’s only been a few days.”

She sighed. “I should get cleaned up. I doubt there’s enough soap to wash my mouth clean as far as the staff is concerned, though.” She left for her room and a bath before breakfast.

When she returned to the study, a leather bound package lay on the desk, with a note from Dorian.

 

_A little bird might have mentioned you were a dreamer to a dear friend of mine. She sends her regards, along with her personal notes on a dreamer named Solas with whom, you should know, she was very close. She hopes they may help you. Knowing her instincts, I’d wager they will._

_-Dorian_

 

Enaste opened the package, her breath still in her chest. Her eyes widened at the signature at the bottom of the introduction letter.

 

_Dear Enaste,_

_Dorian tells me you helped him and Cullen out of a situation recently, for which I’m forever grateful. They are dear friends, and need all the help they can get in their task. I do hope you’ll consider aiding them further, though I cannot understate the danger and so wouldn’t fault you for wishing to remain safe._

_He mentioned your abilities as a dreamer. During our time in the Inquisition, we received help from Solas, who himself was a gifted dreamer. He and I spent much time discussing the fade and his explorations. Although I would later come to learn the truth of his true identity as Fen’harel, and how he instigated the events that led to the breach (Dorian or Cullen can provide more details), he may have shared information that would be of use to you._

_I include here detailed accounts of our discussions, my impressions, and some of our relevant adventures. Do take into account that my affection for him has not abated, even after all of these years. These notes are very personal in nature, as you can imagine. I would appreciate your prompt and thorough disposal of them once they are no longer of use._

_Wishing you success in your endeavours,_

_Lavellan_

 

Enaste followed the letter with the first entry sent by the Inquisitor, curling her legs underneath her. Loren came and went, dropping a tray on the desk without a word but she failed to notice him entirely.

 

Cullen awoke in the middle of the night to a commotion coming from further down the hall. He rose, grabbing his sword on the way, and ran into Dorian as the headed for the noise, which came from Enaste’s room. The sounds were alarming enough that they entered without knocking, reading for whatever may lay in wait. Enaste was hanging, seemingly in mid-air, along the wall behind her bed, hands to her throat, her eyes closed, legs flailing wildly.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen whispered at the sight as Dorian shut the door behind them. He made to help, but Dorian held him back, shaking his head.

“This is her fight.”

Their eyes returned to the elf who struggled further up the wall, onto the ceiling, her choked scream heart wrenching to hear. Cullen’s fists clenched and unclenched as he watched. He had been through harrowings in his time, but none had ever manifested this way. Eyes would flutter, maybe a limb would twitch, but this? This was nothing he’d ever seen, even faced with an abomination.

She clawed and kicked, her whole body struggling for freedom. Her hand bled as she struggled against an unseen attacker. A bandage on one of her legs also turned red with blood. She was losing strength, her efforts waning as they stared on, helpless to help. Her feet pinned down to the ceiling, her legs stopped moving - her whole body coiling, gathering for a last effort, her jaws clenched until her teeth grated, a low growl coming from her chest. Dorian’s eyes grew wide as he watched. “Fascinating! Can you feel it?”

The air around Enaste seemed to thin into nothing, then burst forth in a wave. She fell from the ceiling, hitting the bed posts on the way down before landing on the floor in a thud. Awake now, she groaned in pain as she tried to rise. The two men rushed over to help.

“Maker, are you hurt?” Cullen tried to lift her chest but stopped when she gasped in pain. Broken ribs most likely, by the way she’d fallen. She rolled over with a grimace, her forehead split open by a great gash, blood pouring down her eye and cheek.

She cursed as she clutched her side, trying to wipe some of the blood at the same time. “I’d say so,” she said. “Seems I manage to fall even when I’m laying down.”

Dorian giggled a little, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “You... may have been floating from the ceiling when you fell.”

She wiped more blood from her eyes to better look at him. “A nightmare... a demon, found me. So much fear...”She shivered. “‘Floating?’”

Cullen nodded. “Let’s get you back into bed.” He offered her his hands to help lift her up, but she let go as he pulled. The pain was too much. He slid an arm around her back and another under knees, waiting for her find a hold that wouldn’t bring too much discomfort. She gave him a nod and he lifted her up off the floor, placing her on the bed gently. She clung to his shoulder for a moment as the pain settled before letting go.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” Dorian handed her a handkerchief. “Let’s get you stitched up. The ribs, I’m afraid, will just have to heal on their own. You’ll have to skip dagger practice.” She nodded, her hand holding the handkerchief over the gash in her head. “And I’ll work on finding someone who can give you some guidance on dreaming. I do believe there is someone we might reach out to.”

“Magister Pavus, you don’t have...”

“Dorian, please. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Fine.” She sighed but didn’t argue further.

The two men bowed and left the room. An older woman knocked at her door moments later with stitching materials. After she left, Enaste spent the rest of the night clutching her chest, crying quietly.

 

The following afternoon, Dorian came to her room. He sat at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” He asked, though the strained look on her face told him much. She was in pain, she hadn’t slept, and she’d been crying. Whatever medicine the healer had given her was likely still in the cup next to her bed, the better to avoid sleep. Her eyes were rimmed with dark, reddish circles but she managed a smile.

“Fantastic.”

Dorian smirked. “I’ve managed to track down someone who may be able to help you. A free marcher, by the name of Feynriel came to Tevinter some years ago. He needed help mastering his abilities as a Dreamer. It took a little digging, but I’ve managed to convince him to come and see you. He will be here tomorrow, he said, in the afternoon.”

“I’m in your debt, Dorian.”

He smiled, his long moustache curling along his lips. “Not yet.” He winked. “Is there anything I can get for you before I leave?”

“Coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“You’ll have to sleep sometime.”

She rested her head against the head board, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, her eyelids heavy. “I know.”

“We won’t be far. Tell me... the demon. What was it?”

“Fear.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. This time.”

He nodded. “Good girl.” He patted her foot before standing and left the room.

 

A knock awoke her sometime later. It wasn’t nighttime yet, but she’d slept a little. Commander Cullen came in, holding a chess board. He placed it next to her bed as she watched him, curious. “I thought perhaps you might need a distraction?” He asked as he dragged a chair on the opposite side of the board.

“I’ve never played, but if you explain the rules, I’d love a distraction.”

Cullen began to set the pieces, going over each and how they moved on the board, and the objective of the game.

“I suppose it makes sense that an army general would enjoy this” she said as she waited for him to move.

“I was young when I learned to play. My sister Mia taught me.” He moved his pawn to D4.

“Do you see her often?” She moved a knight to F6.

He shook his head. “No. She is in Ferelden. I managed to spend some time with her and my nephew before leaving for Tevinter, but it was the first time in many years I’d visited.” He moved a pawn to C4.

“Oh?” Pawn to E5.

“The Inquisition kept me busy for years, and the events in Kirkwall before that.” Pawn to E5.

Enaste paused, trying to get a sense of what the commander might be trying to do. She looked up to see him smiling at her slyly, his amber eyes catching hers. “Writing me off already, Commander?”

“Not yet,” he said, sitting back. “Your move.”

She took some time to consider, her nose wrinkling up in concentration. Knight to G4. “What was she like? The Inquisitor?”

Bishop to F4. “It’s hard to describe someone like her and do justice,” he said. “She was... determined, inspirational. She had a sharp sense of humour, always, but a gentle heart.”

Knight to C6. “I received letters from her. She wanted to help me with the dreaming. Shared some insights on her time with Solas?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “I’m not surprised she’d want to help. Did you learn anything useful?” Knight to F3.

Enaste scratched her head with a frown. “Urgh, I don’t know. Maybe. It was fascinating regardless.” Bishop to B4.

Knight to D2. “Hopefully this Feynriel can help. How are the ribs?”

She shrugged, focused on the board for some time. “Quite sore, but I do believe I’ll live. Any other family?” Queen to E7.

“A brother, and a sister, both still in Ferelden as well. My parents died during the Blight.” Pawn to A3.

“I’m sorry. The Blight must have been a very difficult time also.” She stared at the board.

“It was. It started when I first became a Templar. A tale for another time, perhaps.”

“Urgh...” she scowled at the pieces, her eyes moving back and forth. “I think... I think I’ve lost?”

His grin lit up his face. “Well done. A few moves away, but I believe so, yes. May I ask... when did you hurt your leg?” She looked at him with a questioning frown. “The bandage. We saw it last night. I don’t recall you doing this during our practice.”

“A few nights ago. My first demon encounter, I suppose.” She looked away. “I couldn’t... I was too afraid, I couldn’t defeat it. I stabbed myself to focus on the pain. It woke me up.”

Cullen sat pondering for a moment. He’d known many mages over the years, but a lot of what they might have gone through as they grew into their power wasn’t something they shared. He was beginning to understand why. He’d been taught whatever propaganda the Chantry spread in the South to reassure their Templars that what they did was for the greater good. Time had taught him that this wasn’t always the case, though he still felt the dangers fledgling mages faced certainly required precautions.

She rubbed her eyes. “Thank you for the game. I enjoyed this.”

“I’ll leave the board here, if you’d like to play again sometime?”

“I would.”

“I’ll let you sleep.”

She leaned her head back. “I don’t think I can hold it off much longer.”

He stopped at the door. “I’m no stranger to nightmares, but I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Being afraid to close your eyes to sleep...” She sighed, her eyes closed, but the haggard look about her spoke volumes. “Do you... would it help if... I mean...” She waited for him to find his words. He sighed. “I can stay, if you think it’ll help?”

“You want to watch me sleep?” She laughed at the distraught look on his face, regretting it immediately as her ribs screamed in agony. She grunted between clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. I know what you mean, Commander... and, if I’m perfectly honest, yes, I think it would help. It’s a lot to ask, though, I couldn’t.”

He seemed surprised but took a seat by the window. He picked up a book. “Hard in Hightown?”

She shrugged. “I found it somewhere. It’s not bad.”

“Hopefully Varric never hears of this or it’ll end up in one of his tales.” He went about the room and blew out the candles, keeping one for himself by the window. He opened the book and set out to read as she settled herself down to sleep, her eyes fixed on the candle. A few pages later, Enaste’s breathing had settled into a slow, deep rhythm. Cullen peeked at her over the pages. Her raven hair littered the pillow, a stark frame to her ashen complexion. Her mouth was open slightly. He shifted his eyes to the window and out into the courtyard, the book forgotten in his hands. He remembered all too well the feeling of her lithe frame against his chest, her hand over his shoulder, her hair touching his neck.

She stirred once during the night, her eyes animating under her eyelids. He walked softly to her bed and lay the back of his hand on her forehead. He hummed a song, barely above a whisper. Her body and the tension around her eyes relaxed and her breathing resumed a more peaceful pace. He returned to his chair to resume his vigil.

 

Enaste awoke before dawn the following morning, her ribs reminding her sharply to be gentle as she moved. She looked about. “You’re still here” she said to Cullen, surprised. “I didn’t mean to sleep for so long, I am sorry.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like new” she smiled. “Thank you.”

He stood, stretching. “I’ll take my leave. I believe I could use some sleep myself.” He winked before heading out.

He’d spent the night awake, watching over her as she slept.She’d have to find a way to thank him. She might have sold the commander short with her first impressions of him.


	8. Chapter Eight

She’d managed to dress and bathe herself in the morning, though the pain had been significant. Later in the afternoon as she read over the Inquisitor’s letters again, a knock announced Dorian and a visitor, who she assumed to be this Feynriel she’d heard of. She attempted to stand to greet them, but Dorian waved her off. “I explained what happened, please sit. I’ll leave you two.” Dorian left the room as the man extended a hand in greeting. She shook it and he sat down.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

He nodded. “I understand all too well what you are going through. The nightmares plagued me at a young age. I was fortunate to have had help along the way. It’s the least I can do to repay the kindness others showed me. Dorian explained some, however I’d like to hear your version. Your nightmares, what you encountered.”

She looked out the window as she spoke. The details were harder to grasp once awake, but the fear, the utter terror as a demon gripped her by the throat, the hissing screech that rendered her near deaf, the sheer strength of the fingers as the claws dug in the back of her neck... that she would never forget. She recounted the past week’s dreams as best she could. He listened attentively, his eyes never leaving her.

“Do they ever speak with you?”

“Not the demons” she said.

“What do you mean?

“I’ve met spirits who’ve spoken to me, but no demons.. at least, I don’t think so.”

“I see. It is difficult to tell them apart sometimes. I’d like to attempt to enter the dream with you, if you think you might be able to sleep?”

“You can do that?”

He nodded. “It isn’t always easy, but we should be able to manage.” He waved her to the bed. She made her way to lie down, her eyes opening wider as he approached the bed, waving her to make some room.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m afraid. Please, I understand this may be... uncomfortable, but it will be easier to find you.”

She moved over. “Alright.” He lay down next to her on his back and she tried to settle her thoughts. Despite the night’s rest, she was still tired from days with too little sleep. She didn’t think it would be difficult. She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing. As it began to slow, her own consciousness slipped away.

 

She found herself in a house. A small room, separated by a half wall to provide some privacy for a privy, the rest holding a small bed, table, and a few chairs. Modest by any means. “Fascinating.” She turned to see Feynriel standing behind her.

“What is?”

“This is my home. Was my home, back in Kirkwall.” He walked in, touching the table. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t.”

He frowned. “That... is interesting. What did you focus on as you fell asleep?”

She cleared her throat. “Your breathing. For rhythm...”

“I see. Strange that we should end up here. Focusing as you near sleep on where you wish to be can get you there. I can’t understand how you would know this place, or what it looked like. Perhaps just a natural talent at connecting with other dreamers? Have you ever changed things as you dreamt?”

“Yes. Landscapes, objects. I’ve never tried to choose where I find myself, though.”

“Well, no demons yet, which is good. Let’s get our bearings, shall we?” He exited the small hovel. They were in a city... sort of. No hustle and bustle, just walls, a central courtyard with a tree in the middle. “Marvellous.”

“Where are we?”

“This is the alienage in Kirkwall. I spent some time here with my mother, before leaving to study with the Dalish.” He turned to face her. “Could you change the tree? Give it more colour, let’s say.”

Enaste looked at the tree, her eyes scanning the trunk, the branches. Small, white flowers began to bloom along the edges.

“Yes, lovely. Manipulating the fade can attract attention. Should we encounter a demon, or spirit, I’ll do my best to guide you on how to defend yourself. It is important to remember that all demons will look to possess or harm you. Do not trust them, or agree to their demands, no matter how reasonable they may seem. Spirits can be helpful, if you can understand their meaning. Strong emotions will also attract them.

“Dorian tells me you have no magic outside of the dream, but I imagine if you willed it, that you’d be able to cast spells in the fade. Have you tried?”

“I don’t know. I... the last demon that attacked. It was choking me, dragging me on the floor. I wanted it dead. I was angry. I could feel myself fading. I gathered... intent? Energy? It’s hard to explain, but it gathered, and I hurled it at the demon with everything I had. It... disintegrated.”

“Fire? Lightning?”

She shook her head. “No. Just... a shockwave. Never occurred to me I might be able to throw fireballs if I wanted.”

“Could you try?”

She shrugged, but looked at the her hands, trying to picture fire. Flames leapt up from her palms, tickling her skin. She looked at them, fascinated for some time before using her hand to fling a ball of fire down the street. “Excellent!” Feynriel said. “You can defend yourself with magic, at least in the dream. Have you not tried outside the dream?”

“I’ve never exhibited any magical talent, so, no. And not since the dreams began.”

“Something to ponder.”

The area around them began to vibrate. Enaste could feel the reverberations on her skin, the back of her skull. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes. We have attracted attention. Are you ready?”

She didn’t respond, but took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what may come. Spirits began to coalesce around them, flittering by, observing. None seemed intent on doing them harm. Enaste approached one. “Can you show me what happened here?”, she asked.

The alienage filled with shapes, elves mostly, going about their daily lives. A group walked over to an image of Feynriel, who looked on at the scene with a pensive look. A man with dark, messy hair and beard, dressed in armour, followed by his companions. She couldn’t hear their words, but they seemed to come to an agreement. The younger Feynriel retrieved a travel bag from his home and left the alienage as the group looked on.

“The Champion.” Feynriel said. “He bade me go to the Dalish to find help in learning of dreamers. A fool’s errand, it turns out. I had to leave for Tevinter some time later when the Dalish could help no further.”

“That’s the Champion of Kirkwall? Was it difficult to learn?”

“It takes many years, but if you learn how to protect yourself from demons safely, it becomes a lot easier. There are still nights where a nightmare will grip me, but the dreams are mostly quiet now. Shall we go elsewhere? Your pick.”

Enaste took a look around. She closed her eyes and the world changed. The city walls and cobblestones replaced by a forest. The trees loomed tall and high. The creaking of branches filled the air. No birds singing or other sounds typical of populated woodland. Corpses littered the forest floor. Elves clutching arrows deep in their chests eyes staring vacant at the sky. Feynriel bent down to look at one of the corpses. She came closer to look for herself. The elf seemed taller, his skin almost shimmered. No tattoos adorned his face, such as those the Dalish wore. His armour was intricate, as was the sword still clutched in his hand.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

He giggled. “I suppose I’ll just have to get used to that. Perhaps your subconscious is steering us. It’s amazing you are able to reach such places without having ever seen them.”

She stepped further into the forest, her eyes taking in everything of the elves. She asked for help in understanding what had happened here. The fade echoed, the vibrations becoming louder on her skin. Spirits appeared again, clustering around her. A great battle erupted around them, elven mounted riders passing by, their swords swinging, cleaving through other elves who fell to the ground. In each direction, tall figures observed the battle, mounted on their own steeds, their outlines clearly elven. Commanders. Leaders of their forces. Enaste headed in one’s direction, but the distance seemed to only grow with each step. She could not reach the figure at the end of the battlefield. She could hear Feynriel’s footsteps behind her.

Frustrated, she extended a hand toward the figure. If she couldn’t reach him, perhaps bringing him closer would end the charade. Her eyes narrowed as she stretched her fingers. She clasped an unseen point and pulled back, slowly. The world around them shimmered, the figure ahead seemed to pull its attention away from the battlefield and onto the two figures in the forest. The air between them thrummed, flashed in and out, the distance closing for a moment, but pushing back the next. Resistance. Something would not let her see.

“Enaste” Feynriel touched her shoulder, “stop this. Something is wrong.”

The air began to glow around her hand. She could feel the push against her will. Impulsively, she yanked back hard, angry that she wouldn’t be allowed to see the face as it stared her own. The distance between them shattered, light burst around them, but as she tried to glimpse the visage atop the mount, Feynriel and Enaste were propelled back violently.

Feynriel’s body hit the floor off the bed with a grunt. Enaste groaned as she sat up before she could stop herself, her ribcage bursting in pain. She fell back to the mattress to catch her breath before pulling herself up slowly.

Feynriel stood on his feet, a hand to his head.

“Are you ok?” She asked him.

“Yes,” he said after a moment to recompose himself. “That was... unsettling. Something was there with us, keeping you from seeing the riders. That is who threw us out.”

“Who?”

“I doubt that a demon could do this. Another dreamer, perhaps? Have you encountered others?”

She nodded. “Yes, one. An elf.”

He sighed. “I am sorry I could not show you more today.”

A knock at the door. Dorian’s voice. “Is everything alright in here?” He came in.

“Yes. Our time in the dream was.... interesting, to say the least. Enaste is a gifted dreamer. It is no wonder demons are attracted to her with what she is able to do. I’m afraid there isn’t much for it but time, though I believe she is more than capable of defending herself. Her abilities are beyond my own. It makes it difficult to predict what can happen. I’d caution you against bending space, however, Enaste. Powerful abilities attract powerful demons. Lest you want them to notice, it is best to try and remain quiet while in the fade, as much as you are able, at any rate.”

“Any thoughts on why I was floating in mid-air as I dreamt?”

“Some dreamers are able to kill from the dream, perhaps this is just an extension of your abilities to affect the fade, reflecting itself in the real world.” He shook his head. “It is truly astounding. I will bring notes of my own to you once I’ve returned home and gathered them. I’ve collected notes on various demons and spirits that may be of help.” He bowed low. “Magister Pavus, that is, if your offer for me to stay here still stands?”

He left the room. She watched him leave without a word. Dorian eyed her from the door. “Was this helpful at all?”

“Yes. If nothing else, it was reassuring to see someone who’s survived this long as a dreamer.”

“He looked rattled.”

“Yes, I suppose he did. Thank you again for arranging this, Dorian. Ineed a walk, I think.” She didn’t want to tell him that the thought she’d frightened Feynriel was haunting her and she needed to shake it off.

“I see Cullen has found someone else to win against at chess?”

She giggled. “Yes. He taught me the basics. It was very kind of him to spend the time.”

Dorian held the door for her as she made her slow progress over. “It’s been refreshing to hear him laugh and smile.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our Commander hasn’t had the most joyful life. Between his time in the Kinloch Circle, then Kirkwall, he’s seen much. It’s made him a touch sullen, even around me. No small feat considering what a delight I am. Around you, however, I’ve noticed his mood is much improved. It’s been a pleasant change.”

“Well, seeing how easy it is for me to make a fool of myself, I imagine you’ll be hearing plenty more.” She winked at him as she passed and they went their separate ways, with Enaste heading down the stairs with the grace of a broomstick and Dorian headed for his parlour.

Feynriel returned the following day with his notes and belongings for his stay. They began lessons immediately. Over the next week, they could oft be found in the study, both immobile and staring into space for hours at times, laughing at their adventures in the Fade, or Feynriel berating Enaste on her carefree use of the dream world and her unwillingness to heed his advice. He thought her impulsive. She thought he was too controlled and overbearing.

“You don’t know everything!” She yelled at him once.

“And you don’t know nearly enough to take such risks. It’ll get you killed!”

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s not that simple.”

“An idiot?! I’m here to help you learn how to survive the Fade. If you’re not going to listen, why do I even bother?”

“Damned if I know!”

They’d eventually settle on trying again the following morning. Cullen had checked in on them a few times during their first spats but he’d given up trying to calm the situation down. Enaste’s temper had a way of flaring up and down of its own accord and Feynriel seemed to be holding his own well enough.

Loren stopped bringing food trays inside and left them on the hallway’s console table. She was aware of the rumour among the staff that she was cursed, or an abomination, or some other nonsense. If he had been curt before, he’d become frigid since. Enaste didn’t blame the staff. The screams and commotions that had been coming out of her room would scare anyone, herself included.

Dorian would come sit with her at times, reading some of her notes and asking questions she could only shrug at most of the time. Cullen came in during the afternoons if he wasn’t busy with whatever kept him in Tevinter to challenge her at chess. The games lasted longer and longer, though she had yet to win a single match. She enjoyed the time out of the Fade and Cullen’s quiet strength had a calming effect on her if she’d had a particularly frustrating morning.

In whatever time she could spare, she studied Feynriel’s notes on dreaming. His struggles as the dreams first started, and what helped him most. A passage caught her attention - a brief note on a Tevinter mage named Adralla, who had made a name for herself for creating something now called the Litany of Adralla. Designed to disrupt the casting of mind-control spells, it was also rumoured to be an effective defence against dream walkers. Anything that may be of help would be worth seeking, however no further references could be found in Feynriel’s notes on the litany, nor in any of the other tomes. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, she thought a walk would help her legs lose their restlessness. Dancing legs her mother had called them.

She looked for Dorian, but no sign of him about his parlour, or the main house. Cullen also was nowhere to be found. After the past several days of their company, she felt unsettled at being left in the mansion with only the terrified staff for company. She walked the gardens for a time, admiring the work on the rose vines, smelling the flowers in bloom, their deep red shade a stark contrast to her pale skin. Her eyes closed as she inhaled, the pungent scent filling her. On a whim, she focused on finding herself in the fade for answers on dreaming.

She found herself in a forest. A dark-haired elf sat by a fire in the dream next to her. He spoke to someone behind him but Enaste could not see the figure. She couldn’t hear the words, but his expression was sad. He closed his eyes. A flash, and he fell down. Dead. The dark figure he’d been speaking to disappeared. The elf’s hand animated, drawing a symbol in the dirt. She bent to see what it was. An arrow.

Next to the body, a spirit formed, waiting. “The arrow failed. So it was struck down.”

“Who was he?”

“Felassan.”

“Was he a dreamer?”

“He walked the dream.”

“What did he know?”

Voices rang about, from different directions all at once. Male, female, mingling. Images flashed of herbs, potions, concoctions he’d created she imagined. Enaste tried to focus on the details but the images moved too quickly. “I need to see” she said. The images returned, more slowly this time.

“He wanted his knowledge passed on. He asked me to keep it. For another.”

“Can you give it to me?”

“Yes.” A study desk coalesced nearby, much like the one in Dorian’s office, covered in various notes, lengthy papyrus scrawled full of words, drawings, instructions and measurements. Too much to remember in one reading, but if she spent some time here, and were she able to return, she might be able to copy them once awake.

She looked at the spirit. “I must be able to return here again. Will you stay so I may find you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Enaste sat at the desk and began to read the first set of notes.

 

She was still in the garden when she returned to the living. She peered at the kitchen window but the staff had shut the drapes. She could only imagine how unsettling it must be to watch someone stare at a flower for so long without moving. She returned to her study to write down everything she could remember. It was getting late by the time she finished, and not a sign from either Dorian or Cullen. Feynriel was nowhere to be found either. She asked Loren in passing if he might know where Dorian might be but the old servant only shook his head. She made her way to her room to retire for the evening, bringing along some ink and paper should she be able to gather more from what she’d come to call The Fade Study. Laying her head down, however, she had an uneasy feeling. She decided to let the dream decide where she might end up as she went to sleep.

A cellar. A great mirror stood in the centre, as if magically supporting itself upright. Shapes moved about, though she couldn’t see their faces. A feeling of foreboding shrouded everything. Two men, battered and kneeling, surrounded by a group. She walked over and focused her intent to discern more of what might be unfolding. The two men’s features sharpened. Dorian and Cullen. Blades and staves pointed at them. Was this real? Or a dream?

The leader of the group stepped forth from the mirror. An elf. She gasped as she recognized the bald elf from her dream. His staff seemed to be drawing energy from her side, she could see the particles form and concentrate near its tip. He himself shimmered. Casting a spell. She sprung closer to him, her hand extended, calling the energy to her. The particles circled briefly but changed direction, drawn into her, the surge of energy elicited a gasp from her. Invigorated, she raised her other hand and closed her eyes as she drew in more with each breath. Her hair and skin glowed, moved by a wind she couldn’t feel or see, but the raw energy flowing through her magnified her senses.

The elf cursed as he tried to cast his spell and it sputtered. He cast an angry gaze about the room for the cause but his eyes could not see her, though he could sense her, she knew. Dorian and Cullen caught each other’s eyes, detecting an opportunity. Enaste drew in further until her entire body felt like it may shatter. Four of the men facing her friends began to scream in horror, dropping to the ground with their heads between their hands. A terror demon crawled its way to her but she sent it scattering inadvertently across the thin veil and into the room, away from her. It sprang into action and tore at one of the elves’ faces as the others scrambled to fight it.

She focused on Dorian as he began to cast more spells, hoping his magical ability would help carry her thought to him. Run! His eyes grew wide, but he recovered quickly, hitting the ground with his fist, an arc of lightning scattering through the attackers. Cullen grabbed an attacker in shock and broke his neck, relieving him of his weapon. Enaste reached out to the leader whose gaze still searched for her. She could feel him trying to slip through to enter the fade. His will was slippery, his mind agile and experienced at the dream, but she held tight to the veil. As her friends scampered out of the room to make an escape she hoped would bring them back safe, her gaze locked into the elf’s. His eyes grew in surprise, then he smiled. Rather than stay and face what he might be able to throw at her she released the energy she’d gathered at him. The force of the blast threw her, her vision lost in a flash of light.

She rolled herself out from under the covers, nausea gripping her stomach, her limbs racked with pain. She got up to have some water, her hands shaking, her legs weak. She had a feeling the elf wouldn’t soon forget what she’d done. She looked up into the mirror, shocked at her pallor and the sunken look in her eyes. She’d have to refrain from using this much energy for a while. She could guess what the consequences might be if she pushed too far. However easy it may have felt in the fade, her body in the real world could only withstand so much.

She sat at her window for some time, looking out onto the street, hoping for Dorian and Cullen’s return.

 

She awoke to a hand on her shoulder. Dorian stooped next to her, smiling despite a black eye and a split lip. Cullen stood beside him, a few more bruises on his face, but otherwise unharmed. “Good morning” he said.

She smiled back. “It _was_ real.”

“It _was_ you.” He scanned her face. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, just drained I think.”

“When Dorian told me he’d heard your voice I thought he’d gone mad. Yet something kept Solas busy enough for us to leave.”

“That was Solas?” They nodded. “I take it that was an eluvian?”

“Yes. We have been trying to locate them, find out where they might lead if we can. This time, they were waiting for us.” Cullen frowned. “Whatever you did, thank you. You saved our lives.”

“At a cost.” Dorian skimmed her hollow cheek with a finger. “I would offer you a lyrium potion, but I’m not sure what effect it might have on you.”

“I just need some rest.”

“As do we. Let’s catch up later once everyone’s had some time to recoup, yes?” Dorian stood gingerly, his bruises apparently reaching over most of his body.

Cullen hung back a moment as his friend left the room. “How did you find us?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I wish I knew. The fade seems to have a mind of its own at times if I let it. It just takes me places. Useful ones, usually.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

He stretched his neck and shoulders. “Mostly bruises. It might have been much worse. I’ll let you rest.”

The door closed behind him. Enaste took a deep breath. Relief flooded her, making her feel light-headed. She headed for the kitchens to ask for some food (the staff would not let her touch any food or equipment anymore). She wolfed everything down along with several cups of coffee and asked for a second helping to Loren’s surprise. She cleaned up that plate and headed out for a walk.

 

Feynriel found her browsing the library. His skin looked pale. “Are you well?”

“Tired, that’s all. My dreams were not quiet last night. You look drained yourself?”

“I suppose mine were eventful as well. If you need rest, we can meet later.”

He shook his head. “My time here is limited. I’d like to make the most of it. Shall we begin?” They spent the morning practicing how to find each other in the Fade. Feynriel struggled locating Enaste at first as she’d be sent randomly through the Fade. After a few tries, they set up a connection between each other to make it easier, a link that would help him sense her. It wasn’t aways successful, but it was much more reliable. Enaste seemed to find him wherever he went. When he asked her how she accomplished this, she shrugged and said ‘I just let it happen’. He had to admit that her instinctual approach to the Fade had its advantages. After years of imposed self-control, Feynriel struggled with the idea of ‘letting go’. Trust was dangerous in the Fade. She’d find out eventually.

 

Cullen and Dorian found Enaste weeding the garden planters, fingers black with soil, and a thick line of dirt on her brow where she must have wiped it, unaware it left a trail. She looked up at them and smiled. “You look better already.”

“Something to keep the hands busy?” Dorian asked.

“I suppose. I do hope your staff doesn’t decide I’ve cursed the flowers or some such. I’d hate for the plants to pay for my restlessness.”

“You look better as well?” Cullen asked.

“Thank you... I think?” She giggled as he crossed his arms with a smirk. “If you’re looking for details on what happened last night, I’ve left an account in your parlour. I thought it would be easier, and I didn’t want to forget or miss any details. I hope that’s alright.”

Dorian nodded. “Yes, I’ve read it, thank you. Truly fascinating! I wish I could have been on the other side to see it all. The look on Solas’ face when his spell fizzled was worth every bruise, mind you.” He sat on the edge of the planter. “A few days from now, our party is leaving for the Tevinter border. Will you still be heading out with them?”

With everything that had happened in the past days Enaste had forgotten all about her departure from Tevinter. “I think it may be best.”

Dorian took a handkerchief out. He wiped the dirt off her forehead with a smile. “Let me be honest. You’ve read the accounts of the Inquisitor, and what Thedas may face if Solas should succeed with his plans. Staying in Tevinter may not be wise for you, but there may be ways you could still help us. Your dream walking has already proven quite useful and I’d be lying if I told you that we couldn’t use your help.”

“My help?” She looked from Cullen to Dorian, her eyes wide with surprise. “I’ve been nothing but a burden since I came here.”

It was Dorian’s turn to be surprised. “What an odd thing to say! You’ve been studying dreamers and the fade since you arrived, allowing me to review and compile your notes - a subject on which I am sorely lacking. You’ve saved our lives twice now, and if it wasn’t for you, I’d still be drinking that muddy water Loren calls coffee every morning.” She laughed. “If I thought I could convince you to stay, or that it might be safe for you to do so, I would.”

Enaste rose and walked away a few steps, pensive, and more than a little touched.

Cullen took a step forward. “In any case, there are a few days left to consider your options. I agree with Dorian. Staying in Tevinter may not be the best option. I’m not certain leaving would protect you from Solas, mind you. His reach is considerable.”

She took a deep breath, her head turning to the side so they could see her nod. “Thank you. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”


	9. Chapter Nine

The following morning, Enaste and Feynriel walked through an ancient forest. The area was quiet for the moment. “Are you listening?” He asked.

She seemed to snap to attention. “I’m sorry, I was... day dreaming?”

He crossed his arms. “I really do wish you’d take this seriously.”

“And I really do wish you’d realize that I’m not being rude, I’m exhausted. We’ve been at this for hours.” She rand a hand through her hair. He caught her hand on the way down and opened it up to the sky. He blew into her palm and flower petals scattered into the breeze. “Well, well, look who’s being reckless,” she said as she smiled at the petals.

He bridged the gap between them and kissed her, his hands holding her close. The old reflexes kicked and she kissed him back before she could stop herself. She’d done it a thousand times for her old master after all. She pulled back but he held her close, his arms tightening around her. “Stop!” She struggled in earnest now. “I said STOP!” Her anger propelled him back several feet to the ground and out of the Fade.

She sprung to her feet and away from him in the study, her chair falling down behind her. “Where the fuck do you get off!?” She yelled.

He held his chest where she’d hit him. He got to his feet. “Come Enaste, surely you’ve felt what’s between us?”

“I don’t! And that doesn’t excuse what you did. Get out! Get out!” She was pacing her edge of the room like a caged tiger.

Feynriel looked like he might say more but the look of rage in Enaste’s eyes silenced him. He left the room, passing Cullen as he came down the hall. The door creaked open and the Commander walked over to Enaste.

She continued to pace but the rage devolved into tears. Cullen, torn between a reassuring gesture and giving her space, stood by in silence. “My whole life, others have taken from me without permission. Never again!” She heard the Commander’s footsteps coming closer and turned, fully prepared to yell at him to leave, but stopped short. He stayed a few paces back with a hand holding a handkerchief extended to her. The sight of the white fabric jarred her, though why the simple gesture struck her, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the look of genuine concern in his eyes. Or perhaps it was the stark difference between what had happened in the Fade with Feynriel and Cullen’s quiet, respectful courtesy. Whichever it was, it touched her deeply.

She took the handkerchief to wipe her tears. “Are you alright?”

“I... not really. But I will be. Thank you.” She extended her arm to return the handkerchief but he waved it away.

He walked to the door but stopped before leaving the room. His eyes had hardened. “Would you like him to leave?”

She took some time to consider. “I’ll leave that up to him.”

Cullen hesitated but nodded before leaving the room.

 

In the afternoon, Enaste walked the gardens after some time spent in the Fade Study.She’d managed to copy everything she could from Felassan’s recipes. Most notable had been herbal concoctions and wards that could keep the dreams away. She’d sent away for the herbs with Dorian’s permission after confirming with him that she’d be taking his offer to leave Tevinter. She’d offered whatever help she could to their effort from wherever she may be headed. Feynriel had left, she’d been told, with a short note of apology that she threw into the fire without reading as Dorian watched.

Leaving didn’t feel right, however she considered it. Her heart ached at the thought. Whether it was her homeland, or her new friends - or both - she couldn’t say. A rustle from behind made her turn around. Cullen was coming up the garden path, his hand rubbing the back of his neck to soothe a headache. He looked uncomfortable dressed in a formal black, tailored suit that stopped her heart in her chest.

“My word,” she said. “Where might you be headed this evening, Commander Rutherford?”

He rolled his eyes with a sneer. “Some soiree Dorian insists I must attend. I’m fairly certain he just enjoys how miserable I’ll be, but I can’t let him go alone. He sent me down to let you know.”

“How kind of him. Well, I’m quite sure I heard at least two faintings from the kitchen just now. I daresay the Tevinter nobility will be just as smitten by the Lion of Ferelden.” Before he could protest, she walked closer to him, undoing the top two buttons of his coat that he’d disordered. A light smell of elderflower and oakmoss made her smile. She fixed his necktie’s knot in Tevinter style before re-doing the buttons up properly. “There.” She tapped his chest, shaking her head with a smile. “You look positively dashing!”

He held her hand against his chest gently and she looked up into his eyes. No words came, for once. His other hand tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as he took a step forward and leaned in, stopping just shy of her lips. She tip toed up to meet him the rest of the way, her free hand tugging his tie as she kissed him. His hands scooped her face. He held her close as he returned her embrace. Where Feynriel’s kiss had been a demand, Cullen’s was giving. Soft, quiet, but passionate and committed.

They stood against each other for several moments, breathless. He frowned as he wiped a tear streaming down her cheek. “What is it?”

She smiled and leaned into his hand. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “This was a surprise.”

“It was?”

She frowned a little. “I am elf in Tevinter, Commander. Barely a step above rats and pigeons.”

His gaze grew hard, but he held on to her face. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not from Tevinter.” He kissed her again, his arms wrapping around her this time, a hand sliding softly down her spine to her waist, pressing her against him. She wasn’t sure her knees would hold her up much longer.

“I leave in two days. Why?”

He sighed. He brought her hand to his chest where she’d rested it earlier. “You’re making it impossible not to.”

Movement caught her attention at the edge of the gardens. Dorian waved for the Commander at her discreetly. “Dorian will be waiting for you. I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Do be careful tonight, the nobles will adore you.”

He smirked and walked away to join Dorian who nodded to her with a grin and the two left for the evening. She stood in the garden for some time before heading back to her room.

 

The next morning, Enaste took a long bath before heading down for breakfast. Her ribs felt better every day, but Cullen had forbidden weapons practice until they, and the rest of her injuries, were fully healed. Her imminent departure meant they wouldn’t resume and she found herself saddened at the thought. When she returned to her room, she found several items of clothing on her bed with a note from Dorian.

 

_I hope the measurements are still correct. I thought you might need better traveling clothes for your journey. You might like to know our dear Commander rejected no less than nine requests to dance, and three marriage proposals at the soiree. The Imperium is, as you put it, ‘smitten’._

_-D._

 

She eyed the fine fabric, noticing the thicker materials for warmth and comfort. Everything was of fine quality, yet understated so as to avoid catching the eye of a would-be thief. A well thought out gift. She packed the clothes, leaving a set out for the following day and headed down to the kitchen to grab breakfast which she took back to her room. She ate without tasting then lay down to dream. She needed help and she knew exactly who to call on.

 

Cole walked up to her on the path. The fortress in front of them loomed. Tall, white walls, a tower at its centre. Spirits hovered in numbers over the building.

She nodded. “You followed the seeker here?”

“Yes. He deserved to die for what he’d done.”

“You think it’s still here?”

“Yes.”

“Where are we?”

“The White Spire.”

Enaste’s eyes grew large. The Templars stronghold in Val Royaux. “Holy shit.” They walked forward and into the Spire. She followed Cole through the halls. He seemed to remember where they might find the litany. His steps were sure, soft, quiet. He didn’t look at her as they walked but she could sense he was uneasy. “Are you alright?”

He stopped. “There are bad memories here.”

He continued to walk. They climbed a set of stairs. Then another. A set of double-doors stood at the end of a hallway. Enaste shivered. “The air...” she said. “It’s so... thin.”

Cole nodded. “Rhys liked it before the rebellion. He could talk to spirits more.” He pointed to the doors. “In there.”

Enaste strode to the double-doors and entered, Cole behind her. She looked about the room. It was plain. Not a painting on the wall. Not a vase on the dresser. On the bed, the body of a man lay motionless. A great gash ran across his throat. Enaste looked closer at the dead. She searched around the bed, under the pillow, through his clothing, but nothing had been tucked away. She looked the desk drawers but still nothing. The armour shone on the stand, left as it had been placed before sleep. Enaste ran her fingers along the flaming eye that adorned the chest.

Her fingers continued along the black plate. She closed her eyes and let them wander. Her index and middle finger coursed along the waist line, then into the inside of the plate where a small hidden pocket had been welded in. Out of it she pulled a small book adorned with a golden binding. She opened it to read to herself several times, committing the words to memory. Cole had been standing nearby without a word.

She walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Something about this spirit tugged at her heart. “Thank you, Cole. I will be careful with it.”

“Frightened, but fierce, falling for friends you never thought you’d have. You have a kind heart. I can’t stay here any longer. Be careful, he can find you now.” He disappeared. She frowned at his last words then took a final look around before returning to herself to write down the litany.

 

 


	10. Chapter Ten

She sat up from her bed and looked out the window. Night. She’d been asleep the whole day. Her tray of food had been cleaned. Her muscles ached as she stood. She checked the clock on the mantle. Two hours before dawn. No point returning to sleep. Not that she’d be able to. She changed her clothes, donning the leathers and scarf she’d set out the day before. She finished packing her things. She took a look about the room. It felt strange to think she was leaving Tevinter. Despite how her life had gone, it was her home.

She walked out to the study and began to sort through her notes, setting them in order as best she could for Dorian. She took the recipes she’d gathered from the fade, however and tucked them in her bag. By the time she was finished, dawn had come and gone. Dorian appeared in the doorway.

“All set I see.”

“I didn’t want to make anyone wait. Yesterday turned out to be busier than I’d planned.”

“Yes, we noticed your absence. We couldn’t rouse you for meals. Some of us were particularly worried.” He winked. “Come, I’ve something to show you.” He led her downstairs and out to the front of the mansion. “The clothes fit well I see.” He stopped on the front stoop, leaning against the stone pillar with a smile. “He should be here shortly.”

Horse hooves were coming closer. Someone was riding up the path. Cullen came around the bend riding a black stallion with two more horses in tow. Behind him, two more people rode atop their own mounts along with a pack mule already carrying her burden. He stopped at the head of the path and leaned over the horn to adjust his seat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the saddle. I’m looking forward to this.”

Enaste shot a look at Dorian. “You mean you’re the group heading to the border? I’ll be going with you?”

“It’s not information we wanted to spread, I do apologize for not mentioning it sooner.” Dorian took the bridle from one of the horses, a chestnut mare who turned her ears flat as he mounted. Enaste looked at the last horse. The gelding seemed quiet enough. His grey mottled coat looked soft.

She approached him. “Is it a bad time to mention I’ve never ridden a horse before?”

Cullen giggled as he dismounted. “We assumed to you hadn’t. This boy here will take good care of you, just don’t kick him or yank on his face.”

“So, just sit there?”

“His name is Boss. He can be a bit temperamental, but he knows his job.” Cullen swung the bridle over the horse’s neck and waved her over. “This foot in the stirrup, then up you go.”

Enaste looked at the stirrup. “You’re joking, yes? There’s not a chance I can reach that with my foot!”

He laughed. “You might have to hop into it a little. We’ll have plenty of practice along the way.” He stood behind her. “Hands on the horn and cantle.” She half turned to him with a frown. “The front and back of the saddle.” She did as he bid and he grabbed her waist, lifting her up until she could get a leg over the horse and her feet into the stirrups. The horse shifted his weight but stayed put. “Hold the bridle. If all else fails, just hang on to the horn until the horse stops moving.”

She stared at him wide eyed but didn’t comment. He returned to mount up his own horse in one graceful hop and led the way out. It took them some time to leave the city as they meandered through the streets. As they passed the gates, Enaste took a final look back at the city she’d grown up in. She turned away and kept on riding forward.

 

They rode through fields for some time before reaching the edge of the wilds. Enaste let Boss follow the group at his own pace, staring wide-eyed at the world about her. She’d never left Minrathous and despite feeling quite saddle-sore after hours of riding, she regaled at the scenery that unfolded before them.

They pulled to a stop to set up camp. Dorian said they wanted to avoid the main roads so they could draw less attention to where they might be headed. Enaste leaned over the saddle and slid off the horse with a grunt. Her legs were stiff from the ride. She took the horse over to the others to remove his saddle and brush him before letting him graze.

She helped Dorian gather some firewood while the others set up the tents then she set about preparing a small meal for everyone. One of the aides suggested that he could take over but she waved him off. Everyone ate in silence.

Enaste found a stream nearby and sat at the edge to wash off the day from her face. A throat cleared behind her. Cullen leaned against a tree. “Is everything alright?”

She splashed more water over her head to douse her hair. “Yes, thank you.”

He knelt beside her. “You seem distant.”

She wrung her hair nervously. “I’m... I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed at the two of them. “This. I’ve spent my entire life alone. After my mother, I made sure Alcyntus would never be able to hold someone else over me to keep me leashed. I’m a coward, I know, but it was easier.”

Cullen sat down, his gaze on the water as he spoke. He told her of his time in the Circle tower when it was taken over by abominations. He told her of the torture and his anger at mages. Kirkwall had felt like a fresh start under his Knight-Commander and he grew under her tutelage. As her methods grew harsher and harsher, however, he became faced with keeping his oath to protect his charges or follow his leader blindly. He’d stood with the Champion in the end, but blamed himself for not seeing her madness sooner. “The Inquisition was my chance to atone and I wanted to give everything I could to the cause. When Cassandra offered me the position, I left the Templar order and stopped using lyrium. I burrowed into my work but I struggled with the withdrawal.

“It affected my work. I tried to resign my position as Commander but Cassandra wouldn’t hear of it, neither would the Inquisitor. In the end, with everything else going on, I decided that the time wasn’t right to stop. All these months of struggle wasted. I never said anything to her, but it broke me. After the Inquisition disbanded I wandered. Eventually, I fell to lyrium madness.” His eyes grew haunted as he reminisced. “I don’t remember much from that time. Harding found me. Her and Leliana found someone to take me in. She’d been working with templar addicts for years, mostly giving them some comfort in their last days. Do you know what brought me back?” Enaste shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “She wouldn’t give up on me. She didn’t know me, nor I her, yet she cared. Deeply. In her eyes, I could see a different version of myself. Not the emaciated vagabond I’d become, but the man I should have been. The man I could be. Everything she did, from the way she held my hand to the songs she sang, became an anchor. I clung to it, and eventually dug myself out of my own grave. So to speak.”

His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “She saw me at my worse, but she never gave up on me. How could I give up on myself? I’d spent my whole life keeping everyone at arms’ length, but it didn’t make me stronger. If I’d been honest with my friends, things might have been different. Odd that it took a stranger to show me this.”

“What happened?”

“She died. We grew close over the time I was there, but she was sick from the start. She held on as long as she could but there was nothing to be done.” He looked at Enaste. “You know, she was a little bit of a dreamer herself. The point of all this is that having something to lose isn’t a weakness. It keeps you fighting when you thought you had nothing left.”

“Cullen, I’m trying, but I’m so afraid I can’t even breathe.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. “Fear doesn’t make you a coward. You’re one of the bravest women I know.”

She snorted. “Oh sure, right up there with Cassandra Pentaghast and the Inquisitor.”

He looked into her eyes. “You might not believe it, but it’s the truth. From the moment you walked into that dining room to save my life, and even now as you tell me how you feel. You might be afraid, but it doesn’t make you any less brave.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. She sighed and buried her head back into the mane of his cloak. Her fingers ran through the tawny fur. “What on earth is this made of?”

He giggled. “That’s classified, I’m afraid.”

“Is that so?” She looked up at him, pulling on the mane until he leaned in for a kiss.

“You said my name,” he whispered in her ear.

“What? I’ve said your name before.”

“Not like this. Say it again?”

She stretched until her lips brushed the edge of his jaw. “Cullen.” She couldn’t stop giggling as he burrowed his head into her neck with a groan. “Alright! Easy. You and I are going back to the campfire.”

His one-sided smirk crinkled his eye with mischief. “As you wish, my lady.” He helped her up. Dorian and the other two men - who she’d learned were Jack and Jill - were deep in a card game when they returned. Cullen and Enaste sat and watched until the game finished. A rotation was set to guard the camp and everyone but the first watch retired to their tents.

 

Enaste awoke to dawn lighting up her tent and the sound of birds chirping. The smell of bacon filled her nostrils. She tidied her hair into braids that she coiled at the nape of her neck after running some oils through to detangle. Everyone ate and began to pack up. Enaste fetched the horses to remove the hobbles and saddle them up. Cullen checked his saddle and gave her an approving nod. She knew how to tack up and care for the animals - she’d done it for Alcyntus’ guests in the past. Riding, however, would not have been a desirable skill to teach her. For obvious reasons.

The mules were packed and everyone mounted up. Enaste brought her gelding over to a log to make her own attempt at mounting. The horse was kind enough to stand still through her ungraceful display before filing in behind Cullen as they resumed their voyage.

The days went by as they rode, Dorian spending some time with her, listening to her describe the dreaming process as best she could. He considered everything she said carefully, asked dozens of questions. At his insistence, she visited him in a dream, though he could scant remember the details by next morning. They agreed to try again the following evening as practice but she found him in the midst of a personal fantasy she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from. She told him the next morning that she’d be staying out of his dreams going forward. He did not ask her why.

They stopped in a small town that afternoon. Jack and Jill went about gathering supplies and restocking. Enaste stayed with Cullen and Dorian, walking behind the two men as one might expect an Elven slave to do while waiting on their magister. The old mannerisms kicked in - eyes low, hands together, quiet steps. They wouldn’t want to draw attention and despite Cullen’s obvious misgivings, they’d agreed it was best she posed as Dorian’s slave.

Everyone they spoke to seemed off. Even Jack and Jill returned to Dorian at some point to tell him the same. Everyone seemed... apathetic. Dorian asked for directions from random people several times to gauge each. The air was heavy, hard to breathe. Every step felt more exhausting than the last. The folks at the tavern looked at their half empty mugs of warm ale with heavy-lidded eyes. “Something is very wrong here.”

As they passed a bakery, Enaste felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck. An intense nausea seized her. She stopped in her tracks to look at the shopkeep. The baker moved about the shop, placing items on the shelves. His back was turned to her but he seemed unaffected by the general feeling of apathy that the other townsfolk displayed. Dorian had to backtrack to her. He bent to her ear. “What is it?”

She lowered her eyes with an apologetic look. Her voice low, she whispered, “That man... he feels wrong.” Dorian looked up at the baker who waved with a smile. They entered the shop with Cullen close behind them. The closer they got to the shopkeep, the more flustered Enaste became. The nausea intensified while a deep ache thrummed through her bones - she could barely hear the exchange between him and Dorian. When she looked up at him for a moment her vision blurred.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped toward the baker. His face distorted as she reached up with both hands to grab his collar. She pushed the man back into the wall. “Get out!” His lips stretched into an impossible sneer. The cackle that crept from his throat drew a curse from Dorian as Cullen unsheathed his sword.

His limbs began to grow, distend, and swell. “You’re on the wrong side, dreamer!” He swatted her off with a back hand. Dorian and Cullen sprang to action as she hit the floor in a heap. Her ribs exploded in pain. She curled onto her side trying to keep an eye on the abomination as best she could. She backed away at a crawl to a corner. The monster was giving the two a good fight despite their obvious fighting experience.

Enaste closed her eyes but she couldn’t slip into the dream. The pain kept her here. She grabbed her dagger and placed herself in full view behind the two men. The abomination cast her a glance and sidestepped around the two men while Enaste closed the distance between them before either Cullen or Dorian could stop her. The demon grabbed her by the throat with one clawed hand and raised her up to look into its hollowed eyes. She buried her dagger into the arm holding her and it hissed in pain. Its other hand swung low and hit her in the stomach. The world went dark.

 

Enaste opened her eyes and locked gaze with the demon, in the Fade this time. She stepped back to circle around it. It hissed as it realized she had found it. “I’m on the right side now.” She gathered up energy around her as the demon lunged at the her but the distance between them seemed to grow with every step it tried to take. “What are you.”

It cackled. “You can’t hold me back forever.”

“Sloth? Despair?”

“Why fight? I wish no harm, only to help these folk in their trying times.”

Enaste laughed as she hurled flames at the demon. “Quit it, coward, I’ll hear none of your lies.” It scowled and hurtled itself forward. Enaste had no time to go on the offensive. She blocked its hits with a shield around herself as best she could but the attacks kept coming. The demon would never tire. As the claws closed in for a hit, she took a deep breath and sank. The demon fell, along with her, down a hole she’d opened up under them. It grasped at her in the air, spittle flying about as its fangs clamped open and shut. The demon crashed to stone as Enaste softened her own landing. She called the fade’s energy in a great gulp as the monster rushed her, the litany coming from her lips. The words reached the demon as it sliced its talons in a great arc at her chest, and she let the energy loose. A great fist smashed into its face, crushing it inward. Another came crashing down on the creature as it toppled onto its back and the litany of Adralla ended.

The demon disintegrated, particles returning to the fade. Enaste brought her hand to her chest. Her fingers were coated in blood. A great gash ran from her collarbone down to her opposite armpit. She couldn’t stay much longer, she knew - others would be attracted to this location. She had to return to the bakery, tend to the baker.

She walked back and found him, his face buried in his knees, crying. He looked up when he heard her approaching. “I didn’t mean to”, he said in a whimper.

She gave him a hard stare. “It doesn’t matter now, but you can’t allow it to happen again. Understand?”

“How?”

She shrugged. “That’s up to you, not me. Do better. Now wake up.” She pushed him out. She looked about the fade, searching for weaknesses in the veil. She walked to a small tear, almost too small to see. She ran the palm of her hand over it, using her fingers to grasp at the edges to mend it, using energy from the area to smooth it over. Whether she’d actually mended a weakness in the veil, she didn’t know. It was worth a try, though the effort drained her. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She turned expecting to see someone in the darkness watching her. Nothing. Time to go.

She awoke to a small crowd huddled outside the baker’s shop. The baker himself was bruised, burned and battered, with a cut through his forearm, but otherwise alive and human once again. Dorian was outside addressing the few people that had gathered. Cullen stepped away from the baker to come to her when he noticed her stirring. “I don’t know what you did” he said as he helped her up, “but it helped. Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine.” She stood up, her breath catching at the pain in her chest. “We should go.” They rejoined Dorian outside as the locals spread out. The horses waited off to the side with Jack and Jill already mounted. Cullen hoisted her up onto Boss and they left the small town.

They veered off the road after a few miles, using a creek to allow the horses water and muddy any chances of being tracked before heading due South again. Dorian caught up to her and Cullen. “Small villages like this have enough problems without having to deal with an abomination. I’d rather we didn’t attract attention, but we did some good today.”

She nodded. “I thought I could end the demon if I could get into the fade. In retrospect, perhaps being knocked unconscious was not the best choice.” The side glare Cullen gave her spoke volumes about how he felt about it.

“Something to consider for the future, yes?” Dorian came to a halt. Let’s set up camp, this should be safe enough, and I can’t be the only one who needs a drink.”

The camp was set in short order. Enaste crept off the camp to find a stream while everyone fussed over their own chores. She undid the lacing of her leather jerkin. The silk undershirt was stuck to her skin with caked blood. Pulling it off would make it bleed again and trying to soak it would ruin her breeches. She listened for the camp noises a moment and decided she might have time for a quick soak. She stripped down to her shirt and walked into the cold water with a cringe.

The shirt loosened as she scrubbed her hair. She pulled it over her head and tossed it on the shore. The wound wasn’t bleeding any more but the gash would need honey and... spiderwebs? She couldn’t remember where she’d heard that, but the forest should have plenty to spare. She returned to the shore and looked for some as she waited to dry. She spread them as best she could over the wound.

Cullen called her name from camp. She slipped a clean set of clothes on and returned to the fire. No need to worry everyone for nothing.

 

Cullen noticed Enaste’s hair dripping with water. The last rays of sunshine shone down and caught her raven locks, reflecting a rainbow of colours. He also noticed she’d removed her leather jerkin. And her stiff gait. The day’s events might have aggravated her ribs or created a new injury. Her skin looked a little ashy for his comfort but she ate heartily. In his Templar training, he’d been taught that abominations had to be killed. Today, he’d witnessed a man return from being possessed. Would the man be free of possession forever? Or would he always be prone to them? He wasn’t sure what to make of the thought but if the Inquisition had taught him anything, it was that the Chantry didn’t have all the answers.

Dorian listened to Enaste’s retelling of what happened while in the Fade. She mentioned reciting the Litany of Adralla, which, to his surprise, she’d found with Cole’s help. She agreed to write it down for him. “Alright old friend, show them off” he said as he turned to Cullen after he’d finished eating.

Cullen groaned. “Must we?”

“You know me too well to ask, don’t you? Go on, let’s have it.” He turned to Enaste. “The Commander and I have a tradition after a battle, you see. We show off our wounds, our broken bones. Anything of substance.” The Commander was undoing the straps on his armoured shoulders.

“Why?” She asked.

“Firstly, because I would never pass up the chance to see our dear Commander taking his clothes off.” Cullen snorted but continued removing his chest and arm piece. “Secondly, because we can check and help clean wounds that may be hard to reach.”

“I see.”

“I saw you take a few blows, Pavus, go on. I won’t be the only one subjected to this. You’d think you’d remember that I’m the one with the shield by now.”

“What can I say, tight quarters and all that.”

Jack and Jill snickered but kept to their meals. Enaste watched as they looked over a set of claw marks on Cullen’s forearm. The wounds were shallow. Dorian spun to show off a large, round contusion on his right shoulder blade. He moved his arm to indicate nothing was broken. They turned their eyes to her as they dressed back up.

“You must be joking. Not a chance.”

Dorian crossed his arms. “Do you think we haven’t noticed your broomstick walk and your suspicious change of shirt? Go on.”

“This is ridiculous. It’s fine, just a scratch.” The two men stood firm with a stubborn look on their faces. “If either of you starts leering, I will give you nightmares that will make you piss yourselves.” Dorian and Cullen exploded in laughter but Jack and Jill both excused themselves from the scene and disappeared inside their tents. She unbuttoned her shirt about halfway and let the shirt slip open as she held it up above her breasts for coverage. The gash peeked just above the silk.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen walked up to see have a closer look.

“When did this happen?” Dorian asked.

“In the fade. It’s not bleeding anymore, just needs some honey for infection.” She stood while they checked it, eyes staring up at the sky. “Are you two quite finished?”

Dorian slapped her shoulder. “You’re one of us now.”

“Lovely.” She buttoned back up.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The following day, the group came upon ruins. Stone blocks littered a great chunk of landscape, broken statues and bricks. Enaste stopped her horse to look at the rubble. “I wonder what this was?”

Dorian rode back to her. “Solas used to prattle on and on about his exploration of the fade. Told the Inquisitor countless stories about what he’d dreamt in ruins. Would you like to try?”

She dismounted. Cullen followed further behind her, mumbling something about giant spiders. She walked through what looked like a great set of columns. As she took a step beyond them, the ground shifted, rumbled underneath her feet. She turned to yell out to Cullen to step back but it was too late. The ground gave way. She fell with a scream, down several feet and landed into water, the darkness about her almost complete.

Enaste surfaced, coughing and hacking out the cold water that she’d swallowed as she hit the underground lake. She dog-paddled her way to the edge and climbed out. Cullen was getting up slowly. His fall had landed him on solid ground. She ran to him. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “I hit a few...ledges on the way down. It broke the fall, but I’ll be feeling this for days.”

They looked up to the edge of the chasm that had opened up above them. Dorian’s voice reached them though they couldn’t see him from where they were. “Are you alive down there?”

“Yes. Don’t come any closer, the ground doesn’t look stable for a ways. We’ll have to find a way out somehow.”

“We’ll move South a little and set up to wait for you.”

Cullen took a look at Enaste’s wet clothes. Her lips were blue and she was shivering already. “We need to get you out of these clothes and warm you up until they’ve dried, at least a little.”

“I’ve nothing to make a fire with.”

“Neither do I. Come.” He walked over to a corner, away from the open ceiling. He removed his cloak, laying the great mane on the floor of the cave and began to remove the rest of his armour one piece at a time.

Enaste almost protested but there wasn’t much for it. Her whole body shivered in spasms. She wouldn’t last long in a damp cave in clothes soaked in freezing underground water. She grabbed Cullen’s cloak and stripped behind a rock pillar. She hung her clothes as best she could to dry and crept back out wrapped in the cloak to Cullen inside. He was seated against the pillar in his small clothes, his lean, muscular body bringing a flush to her cheeks. She snuggled in close without looking into his eyes and opened the cloak so they could share the warmth. She rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him, her own chest keeping as close contact as she could against his torso. His arm reached around her back and settled on her shoulder. She listened to his heartbeat.

She shivered uncontrollably for some time as they sat in silence but she grew restless. A scar marred his chest. She traced it with her finger absent-mindedly and felt him tense. She couldn’t help but smirk. “Tough fight?” She asked, her hand moving from one edge of the scar to the other. It slid off onto the space between his pectoral muscles down to his ribs.

“It was.” He cleared his throat. “A long time ago. I was still in Ferelden at the time.”

“Hm. A strapping young templar.”

He giggled. “I suppose.”

She snuggled up to his neck, grazing her lips to his skin. The hand on her shoulder squeezed in reflex. He burrowed his face in her hair as he drew in breath. She kissed the space just below the ear by the jawline, stretched against him to reach. His right hand cusped her chin up to kiss her. His left hand slid down to her waist slowly. The kiss was quiet at first but it grew hungrier every breath. Their hands danced to explore each other. She moved under the cloak to straddle across his waist.

He sat up from the pillar and she rocked against him as they kissed. He grabbed hold of her hips, his eyes closing. His mouth wove its way down her neck to her chest and grabbed hold of her breast, tender at first, then sucking in until she gasped. She took his hair into a fistful. She reached down to him, pulling back any fabric between them. She rocked down as he arched up. He slid deep into her and she gasped. She bit his neck as she paced, up and down, slow to begin, keeping him close, but the adrenaline from earlier still flowed through her. She picked up the pace. Any other time, she might have lingered to enjoy discovering him, but her body had a mind of its own.

She stretched her back, clamping down on his neck. “Cullen!” He shifted his pelvis slightly, allowing for more contact between them, using his hands to keep her stable on him. When she let out a curse to make a sailor blush, her body slumping into waves of pleasure, he rolled her onto the cloak with a giggle. She moaned as he found his own rhythm, spurring him on with her heels until his own deep groan rumbled in her ear and he collapsed on top of her.

They held each other for a time waiting to regain their senses. He rolled off onto his back with a sigh. She gave him a swat and stood up to gather her clothes. The leather was still damp, but the shirt and small clothes had dried enough. They had to get moving if they were to find a way. Cullen watched her dress with a smirk while he collected his own items. She tossed his cloak over his head. “Stop looking so damned smug.”

He giggled but finished strapping on his armour. They looked around at their options. The cave had a couple of passageways that may lead them out... or deeper underground. The only way to find out was to pick one and get started so they did. “Never wished I was a dwarf until now” Cullen muttered.

They scuttled through the passageway in the dark, feeling their way along the wall one step at a time. Cullen paused after a few steps. He took some deep breaths, his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself. He’d never felt comfortable in closed spaces since the Circle. Enaste herself couldn’t help but feel like they would run out of air, or were being watched. She’d never been in a cave before - it was not a welcome feeling. She squeezed Cullen’s hand. He gave a squeeze back then kept on moving.

They continued this way for hours. The silence, aside from their breaths and steps, was deafening. The way didn’t feel like they were going “down”, though it didn’t feel like an opening was near either. A light glow ahead spurred them on. A room opened up, the ceiling aglow with a light green sheen of some sort. Moisture dripped down from the stalactites into small pools on the floor. Enaste might have found it beautiful if she hadn’t been more focused on the sense that something was moving at the opposite end.

Cullen signalled caution. He could sense something as well, but they couldn’t pierce the darkness on the other side. They stepped forward carefully, hands on their weapons. An arrow whistled past their heads. A screech rang in the room, along with the sound of feet coming toward them. “Darkspawn” Cullen spat. “Don’t let the blood get in your mouth, whatever you do.” He unsheathed his sword and strapped on his shield, waiting for them where they were. The exit they stood in wouldfunnel them down into a more manageable size. Four darkspawn, distorted dark humanoids in grotesque armour, teeth rattling in their mouths, burst out into the lit cave and rushed them, swords raised.

Cullen parried and struck, blocked, twisted and struck again. His sword connected each time, the darkspawn taking hits. Enaste snuck out to the side, crouched low and sliced through one of the monster’s achilles as it tried to round the shield. It fell to the ground, immediately trampled by the others. Cullen’s sword ran a hurlock through and he kicked it away to dislodge his sword. The manoeuvre opened up his flank for a moment and a screech crept by to take advantage. It disregarded Enaste as she came up from behind and buried her dagger deep into its back. It flung her back as she pulled out her dagger for another strike but she managed to land on her feet. The screech pounced in a rage. She brought her dagger up in a reflex, letting her legs drop her to the ground and clamping her jaws shut. The blade buried itself in the Darkspawn’s throat and it collapsed on top of her.

She scurried from underneath him, wiping her face in case of any blood spatter. She looked up to see Cullen strike down another hurlock. In the far corner of the room, the archer that had sent the arrow earlier pulled another from its scabbard. She crept up closer as it focused on Cullen, dropping to a knee for a full draw. She wouldn’t have time to reach him. “Watch out!” She hurled her dagger with a sharp sweep of her arm. The dagger buried itself deep into the archer’s chest and it fell, its arrow wasted into the darkness. She looked back to Cullen who, out of breath, still smiled at her from the last hurlock as he pulled his sword from the carcass. A great roar rang through the cave.

A large darkspawn took shape in the entrance holding a maul taller that she was. Its dark eyes surveyed the scene, locking onto them. It roared again and ran across the room, hammer swinging as Cullen dodged the mighty blows as best he could. Enaste ran to the archer to retrieve her dagger. The alpha’s powerful blows swept large areas. Both her and Cullen would have to find careful openings to strike... if they could survive the onslaught.

Enaste observed as she came closer, staying out of range as best she could. The blows rang on Cullen’s shield, the sound reverberating through the cave. He managed to dodge a blow that hit the floor, stone shattering on impact, and strike at the alpha’s side. Enaste had no time to add her own, however, as the maul came up and around, nearly missing her head. Two more great sweeps from the hammer sent Cullen leaping back to avoid a side blow. The third sweep, however, arced down from the ceiling and he had no choice but to block with his shield. He yelled as the hammer crashed down, the crunch of bones and shield draining the blood from his face. The alpha stepped back once, clutching his maul by the head and drove its pointed tip into Cullen’s chest until he hit the back wall of the room, his sword protruding from the back of the darkspawn’s torso.

The beast took a few steps back before dropping its weapon and collapsing. Cullen slumped to the ground. Enaste screamed. She ran up to him, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Cullen!” She looked him over but couldn’t see beyond the cave in of his armour into his chest. His breathing was ragged. She grabbed his face to force him to look at her. “Look at me!” His right hand twitched but wouldn’t move. His head shook almost imperceptibly as he smiled at her. “No! Don’t you dare!” The tears flowed freely now. Her throat choked on words. She couldn’t breathe. She clutched at his cloak, his face, but he only grew weaker by the moment. His eyes closed.

“No! Someone, help me!” She yelled, over and over, her forehead pressed onto his as the sobs racked her. Through tears and ragged breaths she reached out with everything she had, screaming the words. She clung to him but he only slid down to the ground. This man, who’d seemed larger than life to her, invincible, was fading away before her eyes.

A cool breeze settled over her, like a soft blanket dropped on her shoulders. She looked around and felt, more than saw, a figure reaching out to her. She held out her hand and it flowed through her, warm and cool at the same time, soothing. The spirit sang from within, easing the pain in her heart. The warmth flowed from her and into Cullen wherever she touched, glowing between them, her hair fluttering.

Colour returned to his cheeks, breath rose from his chest, light at first, then deeper. His hand twitched, then rose to his chest. He opened his eyes, watching Enaste as she shimmered in front of him. The glow faded until it was gone. She opened her own eyes, still swollen red with tears. When she saw him awake, she crumbled into his neck, clutching the mane of his cloak as she sobbed. He held her quietly. After some time, she brought herself up to look at him. “You healed me.” He sat up and looked around at the bodies in the cave.

She helped him stand. “How... how do you feel?”

He undid the straps from his armour and removed the caved-in chest piece with a grunt. He patted his chest and stretched his arm, shaking his head in astonishment. “I’ve received healing before, but this... I was dying.”

Enaste’s lip quivered despite her best efforts. Her nerves were shot. The adrenaline had flown the coop and she was left with all the raw emotions of what had happened. He looked at her strained expression and wrapped her in a hug. She shoved him a little. “Don’t EVER do that to me again!”

“I’ll do my best.” He kissed her forehead, lingering for a while. His mind was racing, but there was no time to process everything. They had yet to find a way out of the cave, and if they ran into more Darkspawn, they would likely never make it out.

They grabbed their belongings and left the room. Their hearts raced as they made their way through the passage the Darkspawn had come from. They veered direction a few times. Eventually the way opened into another room, this one lit by a crevice that looked out into the surface.It’d be a tight fit, but if they could dig some of the rocks out, they’d be home free. It took some work, but after chipping away at the opening, they managed to create enough of a gap to squeeze out.

Sunset lit up the trees in amber to their left. Where they were from where they had started, Enaste couldn’t begin to guess. Cullen took a look at the sun, however, and started off. “If we can find the river, we should be able to backtrack to where we were.” He walked at a brisk pace. They reached the river after a couple of hours and he turned to follow it North. They found the tracks of their earlier crossing before long and followed them.

The night had fallen in full by the time they spotted a fire among the trees and headed there. Jack called out to Dorian when they got close. “Maker, you two are a sight for sore eyes!” He spotted Cullen’s chest piece as he tossed it to the ground. “Had a bit of an adventure, I see.”

“You could say that.”

They heated up some food and ate as they recounted their trek through the underground cave network, leaving out some of the irrelevant details. Dorian’s face grew somber during the Darkspawn fight. Enaste looked away but the sobs that shook her back spoke volumes. His eyes grew wide when Cullen described the healing.

“Fascinating! A spirit healer! You know what this means, don’t you?”

He smiled at Enaste but she scowled at him, scrunching her nose up. “Don’t say it...”

He laughed. “If you wish, though it won’t change anything. You are what you are.”

She sighed, her face drawn. “I need to wash this day off.”

The two men watched her leave. “How do you feel?” Dorian asked Cullen.

“Physically, better than when I woke up. Considering I should still be sitting in that cave with my chest caved in, I’ll consider myself lucky. I’m not sure my armour can be repaired.”

“She’ll need some time, but we’ll make a mage out of her yet. Jack and Jill have first watch, then I’ll take over. You two get some rest.” Dorian retired to his tent.

Enaste came back to the fire in a fresh set of clothes. She lay the set she’d been wearing that day out to dry on branches. She walked over to Cullen and whispered in his ear before heading into her own tent for the night. Cullen followed her in shortly after. He wrapped her in his arms and they fell into a dreamless sleep.

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

She awoke the following morning, her arms still wrapped around Cullen’s chest. His head leaned into her hair as he slept, his chest rising with his breath. She didn’t know what a spirit healer was, or whether she could ever do it again, but she was grateful. She crawled over him. Her fingers cradled his face as she kissed his lips. He was smiling at her when she pulled away. “Good morning.”

“It is.” He ran his fingers over her wound, pensive. “Could you heal yourself?”

She shrugged. “Maybe?”

He got up on his elbows. “Try it for me?”

She bit her lips but closed her eyes. She couldn’t exactly remember what had happened, but she knew somehow she’d reached out and a spirit had answered. Maybe it was that simple. She allowed her mind to reach out, lose some of its focus and expand out. She called, as best as she could tell, for healing. Her heartbeat resonated in her head, her breathing slowed. She felt... a thread? A link? She pulled it with her thoughts, holding on to it as a bridge when she felt the cool sensation come to her. Her breath caught in her throat as the white shimmer surrounded her. The sensation faded after a moment. She looked down at her chest. The gash had disappeared. So had the pain in her ribs and leg.

Cullen smiled at her. “That... is really something.”

“Come on, lovebirds, I want to see what’s so special, yes?” Dorian called out from outside the tent. Enaste rolled her eyes and dressed with her nose scrunched, as it usually was when the subject of her being a mage came up.

She met him at the fire where he was eating a light breakfast for the day’s travels. “Well?” He asked.

“Just practicing some healing, I suppose.”

Cullen stepped out of the tent and set to putting on what was left of his armour. “Her chest wound is gone.”

“Ah! Finally embracing our gifts? Anything else you’d like to try?”

“‘Coming to terms’ would be more accurate.” She thought for a moment. “Fire seems like it would come in handy.”

Dorian laughed. “Practical! Sit.” He explained the process of summoning the elemental powers from the world into manageable spells by tapping into the Fade. She sat and listened with a frown. He stopped just as he was beginning to delve into reshaping reality through sheer will and the technicalities of pulling through the Fade. “Maybe just give it a try. Too much information isn’t always helpful.”

She stared at the camp fire for some time to focus on the element. Shifting her gaze to her hand, she expanded her mind out to reach for the string she’d found earlier. She pulled gently, somewhat afraid of what may come. Her hand burst into a light green flame that danced on her skin. The heat made her gasp and she shook it off. The fire fizzled out of existence. “Ouch!” She shook her hand. “Why the heck was it green?”

“Veilfire!” Dorian exclaimed. “How in Thedas did you manage that?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s not quite fire, more like the memory of fire. It doesn’t need oil or wood to burn.”

“Urgh! Can we go? This is making me nervous.”

“As it should, but yes, let’s head out. We have some ground to cover.”

 

They rode off shortly after once Cullen managed to hammer the inside of his chest piece into a wearable item again. A horse snorted behind him and he turned to look at what might have upset the animal. Boss was fidgeting in one place, ears flat and head tossing. Enaste sat in her saddle but her eyes, though open, were distant and her body completely still. Cullen steered his horse around and trotted over. “Enaste?” He reached out to touch her shoulder but she made no indications that she could see or hear him. The horse was getting further agitated in the meantime.

“She’s... in a dream state,” said Dorian as he joined them. “Best get her off before she falls.”

Cullen dismounted and gently leaned Enaste out of her saddle. She slumped into arms but didn’t wake. “How long could this last?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. A better question would be ‘why is this happening now’.”

Cullen returned to his own mount and sat Enaste up on the saddle. He climbed back up behind her, his arms steadying her on each side and leaned her head back against him. “We have to keep moving. Can you lead her horse?”

Jack attached a lead to Boss bridle to pony him for the rest of the ride. The old gelding bit him as he walked back to his mount. “Cranky old arse” he grumbled. They resumed the trek across the countryside.

By the time they stopped for the day Enaste had yet to awaken. Cullen lay her down gently in her tent. He shook his head as he returned to the fire.

“She’ll be fine, old friend.”

“She has to eat, Dorian.”

“I know. Let’s give her a little more time before we take any drastic measures.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the orb. “I don’t know what they intend to do with this at Skyhold, but let’s hope it’s worth the effort. Handing this over to Dagna... scares me a little.”

“Just a little?”

Movement behind them attracted their attention. Enaste stood at the tent’s entrance. Her gaze still vacant, she struggled to walk toward Dorian. He frowned. “What is she saying?” Her lips moved, whispering something. Her hands twitched open and closed. Her steps became hesitant, her body coiled against itself. An internal struggle seemed to rage through her, her will fighting against something. Her voice became clearer as the words came more forcefully. “The Litany!”

Enaste finished the litany in one breath. Her knees gave way. She gasped as she fell to the ground. Her eyes focused on Dorian in front of her. She rested a hand on her head and tried to shake off the cobwebs. “Gods be good...”

Cullen knelt beside her. “What happened?”

“Something... someone was... I don’t know. Everything felt so real at first. It took me a long time to realize I was in the Fade. Once I did, I couldn’t get out. What happened while I was out?”

“You’ve been in a trance all day. Just now, you walked out of the tent and started reciting the Litany of Adralla.” Dorian put the orb back in his bag.

“I used the Litany to try and counter whatever might be holding me. Whether it was a demon, or something else... I never saw, but it didn’t feel like a demon.”

“Another dreamer?” Cullen asked. “There aren’t many of those.”

“I need to make a tea” she said as she scrambled through her pack for the herbs she’d brought. “I think staying out of the fade will be a good idea for a while.” She’d have to practice the wards that she’d found in the Fade Study as well.

She made her tea and ate as Dorian and Cullen recounted the day’s events. “I’m sorry he bit you” she apologized to Jack.

The man shrugged. “He seems to like you fine, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Can this happen again?” Cullen asked.

She shrugged. “I imagine so. I hope this tea helps but... I honestly don’t know.”

“You’ll be riding with me for a while then. The last thing we need is you breaking your neck because you fall off your horse.”

 

The following morning, Enaste settled herself in front of Cullen on his horse and they headed off at the head of the group. His body and arms framed her completely, the feeling of his breath on her hair tickling her down to her guts. As they rode, he kissed her ear. “We won’t go very far if you keep this up.”

His hand moved up her thigh to her stomach. Her hands clenched in reflex. He whispered in her ear, “if you keep quiet, they’ll never know.” His fingers found the waist hem of her pants, stretching down until her breath caught in her lungs.

“You’re just trying to keep me awake, aren’t you?”

He giggled in her ear. She clenched her jaw, her eyes closing, and rocked along to the rhythm of the horse.

 

They set up camp in the evening after a long day of riding. Their journey was coming to a close, Dorian said, just a few more days of riding should get them to their destination. Enaste drew first watch. The night sang with insects and animals, stars shone up above the trees in the sky. She closed her eyes a moment to enjoy the sounds while scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

 

Dorian awoke to a sound. He took a groggy look about his tent. There was no one in sight, but the door flaps fluttered in the wind. He couldn’t hear anything suspicious outside. He crept to the door to peak outside. Enaste sat on her heels at the dead fire pit. She held the orb in her hand. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as they had whilst in her previous trance. He knelt next to her and waved in front of her eyes but she didn’t react. He woke Cullen.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian said. “We try and grab for the orb, it could set off... it doesn’t feel dead anymore. We both know what happened when Corypheus unlocked one of these.”

“What are you suggesting?!”

“I’m sorry, Cullen, but we might not have a choice. If we cut off the source, the orb goes back to dormant.”

Before Cullen could respond, a great roar broke the silence of the forest. A slew of Qunari warriors burst through the camp with weapons raised. They tried to fight as best they could but the numbers overwhelmed them, and a swift blow to the head dropped the world from under them.

 

Cullen awoke to a sharp pain in his skull. His arms were tied behind him around a thick stake in the ground with chains. He craned his neck to look around. They’d been moved to a Qunari camp. The horses were tied off to the edge. He couldn’t see anyone else. A groan behind him drew his attention. Dorian had been tied in similar fashion. “Dorian!”

“I’m here.”

“Where are the others?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. This is worse than a hangover.”

A large male Qunari exited a tent, holding a form over his shoulder with hands and feet tied. As he drew closer, he dropped Enaste to the ground unceremoniously, still in a trance. The orb was nowhere to be seen. “Agents of the Inquisition. Your fate will be decided in Par Vollen. The orb will be sent for destruction. What have you done to the Elf?”

The men remained silent.

“Do you think to protect yourselves with your silence?” He kicked her to roll her over onto her back. “Who is she?”

“Just a slave” Dorian said.

The Qunari leader narrowed his eyes at Dorian. “Let us see.” He picked up Enaste’s foot bindings and dragged her away a few yards. His boot swung, striking her in the stomach. Dorian and Cullen tensed but remained silent. “She does not awaken. Why? This is no spell.” He drew a long knife from his belt. He dragged the tip along her face, down her neck, and over her shoulder. The edge drew blood as it travelled down her arm, finally breaching into muscle as it reached her forearm.

Enaste gasped, her eyes blinking wildly. Her gaze focused on the Qunari and she screamed. She struggled but couldn’t get free of the warrior. “Ah!” He picked her up by the back of the neck to stand as he looked down at her. “Your name?”

She looked around but he shook her to refocus her attention onto him. “Anariel!” She blurted out.

“Why are you travelling with these men?”

“I’m a slave to the magister.”

“Why were you paralyzed?”

She paused. “I don’t know.”

He tossed her to the ground. She cradled her arm in the other. “They did this to you?”

“Who else?”

He walked around her. “Not all Elves are slaves in Tevinter these days. Many are agents of Fen’Harel. Are you?”

“No. I don’t know about any of this.”

He bent low so she could see his features. “I spent many years learning to detect lies. You are not telling the truth, but where is the lie.” He stood back up and nodded to two more warriors who waited by Dorian and Cullen. Enaste’s breath caught as they began to rain blows down on the two men.

“Stop!” She grabbed the Qunari’s foot to plead. He kicked her off but the beating ceased on her friends.

The leader lifted her up to his height again. “You are not their slave. Why are you travelling with the Inquisition, carrying an orb such as that which breached the sky?”

“Why would I tell you” she croaked as his hands tightened around her neck.

“It would be easier for you if you did.”

“Fuck you” she spat through her teeth.

He threw her to the ground. “They will not speak, but you are no fighter.” He kicked her again. “I can tell the ones that will break.” His fist landed a blow on her face. Enaste’s vision blurred. She worried for a moment she might faint and end back into the fade but he slapped her with a backhand that sharpened her senses. The blows came down, one after the other until her body grew numb. The Qunari did not tire, but he grew frustrated at her silence. He slammed her head down onto a log, his great knife coming unsheathed once more. The blade came down hard and swift. The sickening sound of flesh being cut clean filled her. She realized in horror that he’d just cut off one of her ears down the middle. Cullen’s scream in the distance faded as darkness claimed her.

 

When she awoke, she found herself in a tent, her hands and feet still bound. Her hair was stuck to her face and neck with clotted, dried blood. Tears flooded her eyes as the pain from all over her body became real. How long she’d been asleep, she didn’t know. The large Qunari who’d maimed her slept on his furs further into the tent. The camp was quiet. A simmering rage settled in her gut. She lay her head down and slipped into the dream. Unlike most of her wanderings thus far, Enaste focused on her immediate surroundings as she fell asleep. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

 

Cullen awoke to the sound of light footsteps coming their way. He looked up to see Enaste slinking over. His jaws clenched at the sight of her. Her face was marred with cuts and bruises, her hair was dried stiff with blood against her skin, all the way down her leather jerkin. She put a finger to her lips to keep him quiet before unlocking the cage and the padlock on the chains. She held their hands as she gathered some healing for him and Dorian. The process came to her almost naturally now.

“They still have a few lookouts” she whispered. She handed the great knife to Cullen. “I haven’t seen Jack or Jill.”

Cullen nodded and led the way out of the cage. They’d stripped him of his armour before binding him to the post. Enaste pointed South and North for the lookout positions. They headed off to the South first. Cullen snuck a peek into a tent before slipping in for more weapons. Two Qunari lay on their beds, their faces frozen in a last expression of terror, not a wound to be found. He looked back to Enaste who simply pointed to their swords, her eyes hard. He exchanged a look with Dorian before slipping back out of the tent to find the lookouts.

The Qunari turned too late, expecting one of his comrades, only to find Cullen’s sword embedded in his chest. From the other end of the camp, a scream broke the silence. An alarm was sounded and Dorian and Cullen braced themselves for the rest of the Qunari to emerge and round them up. The following Qunlat curses grew into fearful calls for his brothers while the group made their way to him. They found him emerging from a tent, alone, eyes wide with fear.

“Itwa-adim!” He charged them in rage but a lightning bolt struck him before Cullen breached the distance and finished him. They turned to Enaste but she was walking away toward the horses to begin gathering their things.

They found Jill in a separate section of the camp, tied to a post. He’d been beaten for information as well but was still alive. Jack, or his body, could not be located. They packed up their belongings, orb included, and mounted their horses. They cantered off to put some distance between them and the dead camp for several miles before slowing down to a walk so the horses could maintain a longer distance before they would feel safe stopping for some rest and to have a look at everyone’s wounds.

Enaste rode in silence, her gaze fixated on the horizon, her jaw clenched.

 

Dorian announced that they would stop in a secluded spot a couple of miles off the road behind a copse of trees. The group made a quick fire to heat up some food and make some tea. Most of Jill’s injuries were bruises that healed quickly under Enaste’s care. Dorian and Cullen’s had already mostly gone and they refused further before she took care of her own. She called out to the spirits one more time but she was exhausted. Her cuts closed and most of her bruises disappeared, but a few remained in stark contrast to her ashen complexion. She asked for some time to clean the blood out of her hair and a mirror. Dorian handed her the mirror and the men watched leave with apprehension. The sound of the mirror shattering in the distance as they ate surprised no one.

She returned some time later and sat down to eat quietly. Her wet hair lay flat against her head, bringing her maimed ear into sharp focus. Dorian squeezed her hand before getting up to check on his inventory. Cullen stayed busy with the horses and his equipment until they resumed their journey to put as much distance as they could between any potential pursuers.

After a few hours of silence, Enaste trotted up to the Commander. She couldn’t read his expression as she approached. “Well? Spit it out, whatever it is.”

He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before he replied. “You killed them. While they slept.”

“Yes. What of it?”

He turned to her with an angry sneer. “Does it not bother you?”

“Why?! Because I didn’t slice their throats with a shiv? Don’t be a hypocrite!”

“Oh boy” Dorian muttered behind them.

He stopped his horse. “A hypocrite? No one should have that kind of power. What else could you do to someone while they lie there powerless?” His voice rose as he spoke. His anger at her poignant.

“So you’d rather I did nothing? Maybe let them beat me some more and cut off my other ear?!”

“What happened to you was horrible” he admitted, “but what you did... where does it stop?”

“It stops with ME you ass!”

“Oh and you think that’s good enough?!”

“Vishante kaffas! Isn’t it?!”

Dorian cleared his throat and both turned to glare at him. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we do need to move this along. Maybe pick this up when we get to our destination, yes?” Cullen made a disgusted noise and spurred his horse. Enaste waited for him to get a certain distance away before she cued Boss onward, stepping in line with Dorian. “He means well, if that’s any consolation” he said, his voice low. She eyed him dubiously. “Templars are taught to distrust magic. As far behind his Templar days as he is, our dear Cullen struggles at times. A Southern habit, I’m afraid.”

“I suppose you’d know.”

“Besides,” he winked, “there would be no make up sex without spats.”

She snorted a giggle despite her foul mood. “Maybe it’s for the best. This journey is almost over after all. We go our separate ways soon.” Dorian left her to her thoughts for a moment. “Dorian, you need to know that someone is after the orb. It’s hard for me to understand what happens in the real world while I’m in the Fade, but this I know.”

He nodded. “Before the Qunari surprised us, we found you at the fire holding it. Gave us a scare. It almost seemed like it might unlock.”

“When I was... dealing with the Qunari in the Fade, I could almost see who has been trying to manipulate me. He’ll have to be a lot more careful if he’s going to try again. There’s more though... something beyond him.” Her eyes grew pensive as she spoke. “Something in the dark stirs.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a feeling... like whispers... white noise. I don’t know.” She shrugged but her expression was grave.

The camp was quiet that evening at the fire. Sleep was shorter for everyone with one less in the group to take watch. Enaste retired into her tent after eating. Cullen watched her vanish behind the flap. The anger in his eyes had abated but not the stubborn look. Dorian shook his head. “Sometimes,” he said, “I forget what a stubborn ox you are.” He patted the Commander as he passed and headed into his own tent.

Cullen stared at the fire for some time. He sighed as he began his rounds. The night passed without incident.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

On the final day of their voyage, at Dorian’s urging the night before, the group set off earlier than usual. Enaste had had the last watch of the night. She prepared breakfast early for everyone, spending some time afterwards grooming and spoiling Boss who seemed to relish all the attention. Her tent and belongings had already been packed. She sipped some tea as she handed him apple slices one at a time. She’d grown attached to the grumpy gelding and she hoped she would get to keep him beyond this journey, though with no income or other means to provide for him, she really didn’t know how she’d manage. She giggled as he nuzzled her pocket for more. “Maybe later. If you’re good.” She scratched his head and began to tack him up for the journey ahead.

It had been two days since the Qunari attack. Cullen hadn’t said a word to her yet, and she’d be damned if she was going to first. The whole thing seemed childish in hindsight but she couldn’t bring herself to bridge the gap. Dorian and her had been practicing basic magic and she’d finally managed to cast real fire the previous evening, although she’d almost lit her own hair up in the process. Casting without the aid of spirits on this side of the veil was a strain and drained her quickly. Dorian assured her that it would improve with practice, much like a muscle, but she wasn’t so sure. Shields, however, came easily to her and he was pleased at how long they lasted under pressure.

Dorian passed by to tack up his own horse, humming a tune under his breath. “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning, Magister Pavus” she said with a smile.

“I hate camping” he replied. “I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to a nice long bath.”

The rest of the group packed up and they were on their way.

 

Just as dusk began to settle on the horizon, they rounded a corner up a path that branched off the road and came up on a large cabin. The door slammed open and a large Qunari wearing an eye patch emerged, charging straight for Dorian. Enaste’s breath caught at the sight but as everyone seemed relaxed about the whole display, she waited to see what would happen. The Qunari wrestled Dorian off his horse in a great bear hug that concluded with a long, passionate kiss. Her jaw dropped at the sight. Cullen rode by the couple, nodding to the Qunari. “Bull,” he said.

“Cullen!” He slapped the Commander on the shoulder, almost dismounting him. He turned his one eye to Enaste with a smile. “And this must be the Lady Enaste I’ve been hearing about.” He walked over to her and extended a hand. It took her a moment to take it but she shook his great paw.

Dorian came up behind him. “Enaste, meet The Iron Bull.”

“It was true!” She said.

“What was?”

“That you were rescued from an ambush by a Tal Vashoth.”

Bull’s eye grew serious but he nodded.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, a pleasure to meet you, Iron Bull. My first impression of Qunari wasn’t a pleasant one.”

Bull looked at Dorian with a frown. “We’ll talk. Let’s go inside. Enaste, you can leave your horse and settle in. Someone will take care of them.”

She dismounted and grabbed her pack. Night had fallen and the long day behind them had tired her out. Once inside, a young attendant showed her to a room where a bath had been prepared. Clothes had been laid on the bed. She closed the door and shed her travelling gear before sinking into the bath with a contended sigh.

 

In a blink, she found herself in a different house. She was asleep, she knew, in the bath in her room at the cabin. How long she’d been asleep, she couldn’t tell, but this dream wasn’t hers.

A man sat on a bed, her back to her, holding a woman to his chest. He rocked as he sang softly through tears, her head cradled against his chest. She moved to the side to get a better view, but the blond hair atop the man’s head told her who this dream belonged to before his face was clear. Her heart ached to see Cullen. At the time of the dream, he’d been severely underweight, the sorrow that he bore all the more poignant on his gaunt features. This was the woman who’d saved him on the day she died.

She sobbed at the sight and turned to leave him to his mourning. She hadn’t meant to intrude on such a private memory, but he turned at the noise. He could see her.

She felt a sharp tug at her feet and hands. She looked down at her hands. She frowned.

“Enaste? What is this?”

A flash of hands around her wrists and ankles, ropes, the study... Understanding dawned on her in a panic. She squeezed Cullen’s arms, staring into his eyes. “Cullen! In my room! You have to wake up! They’re taking me!”

“What?”

“Wake up, Cullen! In my room, please!” She gathered her strength as the dream began to blur and pushed him back, hard. “WAKE UP!”

 

Cullen awoke with a start, out of breath, his heart racing. It was still dark, but sleep had shed from his mind in an instant, the memory of his dream all too fresh. He grabbed his sword, listening for signs of trouble but couldn’t hear anything. He headed toward Enaste’s room, the sounds of struggle growing louder as he drew nearer. A maid stood in the hallway, a hand on her mouth, eyes agape. He grabbed her elbow and looked into her eyes to make sure she was listening. “Dorian! Get him! Now!” He pulled her back toward the bedrooms and watched her run a few steps before continuing on.

The room was empty when he reached it, water everywhere from the bath. He could hear the struggle down the stairs, headed for the yard. He ran after them, storming into the open air as Enaste kicked and cursed, stark naked in the moonlight, as best she could against restraints, slung over a Elven man’s shoulders.

The Elf looked back and pointed to Cullen, two of his companions coming between him and Enaste. They drew daggers and he knew they meant to fight to distract him.

 

Enaste saw Cullen come through the door and thought she might cry. They’d managed to drag her this far with the four of them, but she might be able to make it too hard to go further with just two of them. A burst of flames sprung up around one of them, catching his clothes on fire. She grabbed the belt of the man holding her over his shoulders as he began to walk away, pulling, hard, until she began to slide toward the ground. “Bitch” he cursed as he lost his balance, falling on top of her. She rolled out from under him and gathered her legs before kicking him in the head with both feet. The blow stunned him long enough for her to begin working on freeing her hands. Her feet came loose next.

She stood up and took a look around at the scene. The two rogues were giving Cullen a good fight, yet even in his night clothes, he looked menacing and fierce as his sword forced the two to dance deftly to avoid being cut down. Dorian and Bull had joined the fray, raining spells down and carving through two more who’d appeared from the shadows. The man she’d knocked unconscious, awake now, crept out in front of her, a small knife between his hands. He headed for Cullen at an angle that he’d be hard pressed to see him coming.

Enaste ran up and grabbed his arms, scrapping to get him to let the blade go. One of the two rogues who faced Cullen fell to a blow to his side while lightning sizzled somewhere in the Courtyard. Enaste stepped in closer to get better leverage against her opponent but he was stronger and heavier than she. He twisted on his feet, trying to pull her out of the way but she tripped on his foot, clinging to his arm for support. The weight threw him forward hard against her and she hit a pillar. The small blade slipped through between her upper ribs, burning like fire as it did.

“Fenedhis!” He hissed between his teeth, looking at the blade, hilt-deep in her ribs. He stepped back, letting her go in time to face a blood spattered Cullen coming past the bodies of his comrades with Dorian behind him. He turned and ran as guards, finally alerted, took the chase along with The Iron Bull.

Enaste slid along the pillar until she was on the ground. Cullen and Dorian ran over and took stock of her wound. “Poison” she said through clenched teeth.

“Meant for me”, Cullen spat.

“Bring her to my parlour,” Dorian said as he began to search the bodies. “They might have the antidote. If not, we’ll have to try an antivenom.”

Cullen stepped in closer. “Around my neck” he said, looking in her eyes as she slid her arm across. “This is going to hurt.” She nodded to indicate she was ready, screaming despite herself as he scooped her up. Her skin felt on fire, the burn radiating from the blade hotter with every heart beat. Her vision was blurring but she clung to Cullen’s shirt to keep hold of what consciousness she had left.

He lowered her to a long chair but the pressure made her scream out in pain. She wouldn’t let go of Cullen’s shirt, afraid if she did she might faint and never wake up. A door opened. A voice. Dorian.

Cullen’s hand touched her forehead. “She’s burning up fast. Give it to her now.”

“She’ll choke.”

A hand, cupping her chin, another behind her neck, gentle, strong. A cold vial against her lips. “Enaste, you must drink. Understand? Drink!”

The vial pressed harder, her lips parting. The liquid might as well have been molten lava, but drink she did, her hand gripping him ever tighter for a hold.

“It has to come out.”

A hand on her cheek. Shivers. Her blood ran cold now, tremors wracking her spine. The blade pulled out quickly but the white hot pain seared outward in a wave. Darkness fell over her eyes. Her fingers uncoiled as she collapsed.

 

She’d fainted. Probably. Or she’d died, but somehow she didn’t think she’d be ‘here’ if she had. “Hello again.” That voice. Feynriel. She turned to face the Half-Elf. He stood, calm, somehow regal in his plain clothes, a slight smile on his lips.

“You?”

He nodded. “I do hope my agents were not too harsh?”

“Why?”

He stepped closer but stopped before arm’s reach. “For some years now, I’ve been working as an agent of Fen’Harel. His name is Solas. He’s been searching for a gifted dreamer for some time.”

“Why?” She crossed her arms.

The smile reached further on his lips. “Always the stubborn one. He needs help” he said.

“I know who he is” she said, taking a step back. “The Dread Wolf.”

“Of course. They told you.”

“The Inquisitor did. And what is it, pray tell, Fen’Harel needs my help with?”

“The veil” he waved outward. “It’s a prison. Spirits, trapped here in semi-existence, turned to demons by the greed of mages the world over. Magic, snuffed almost into non-existence by the barrier from being so disconnected to the fade... we must tear it down. Free both worlds.”

Enaste’s eyes widened in shock. “So it’s true. He’d set the fade loose upon the world?”

He stepped forward, his eyes eager. “Imagine this,” he said as he swept his hand in a great arc. The rocky fade landscape changed before her eyes, towering white spires stretching up into the sky, floating walkways lit as if from within, wisps flying to and fro. Elves walked, taller than she, graceful, in flowing gowns or tunics of silk and material so light it shimmered. Magic resonated around her, humming in her ears, tingling at her fingertips. She had to blink to clear her gaze from the sheer brightness emanating from the very walls. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Feynriel took her hand, leading her to a balcony alcove that overlooked a city that stretched as far as eyes could see.

Her own clothes had changed, beautiful, inlaid material that she could barely feel on her skin. Her hair was tied up in a delicate braid laced with a golden diadem, diamonds adorning her brow and temples. “Arlathan” she whispered.

He nodded, his smile now warm and inviting. “This is what was lost. Magic beyond words, living among spirits as a part of nature. Elvhen immortality. Do you see?”

She could only stare at it all, speechless.

“This was his home. In a rage over the murder of Mythal, he brought the veil down onto the world to imprison the Evanuris forever. The effort cost him a thousand years of consciousness, only to find upon waking that what he had created was far worse. With the help of a dreamer no longer held back by the veil, he can rebuild this world. Undo his past mistake.”

“What would happen to the world now?”

“The raw chaos unleashed upon the world would tear asunder what we know today. A tragic cost.”

Her hand reached up to take his, holding it against her cheek for a moment to anchor herself. She was growing accustomed to the fade and dreaming, but this shining world of magic and ancient elves stirred her deeply. He reached up with his other hand to look into her eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Please take it away” she asked as she looked once more to the fabled land below the balcony. He closed his eyes and she did the same, the light was too bright, too painful. It made it hard to think. She pushed him away, gently, and he took a step back, a slight frown on his brow.

She shook out her hair and the updo and diadem disappeared. Her hand travelled across her face, leaving bruises in its wake, a split and swollen lip, a black eye, her maimed ear. “You’re mad,” she whispered. His frown deepened.

“What are you doing?”

Her hand continued to trace her body, removing his illusion, replacing it with her own dirt-smeared, bloodied and bruised skin, stopping at the dagger between her ribs. She clasped the hilt and pulled it out, coughing up blood as she did so.

“What is this?”

“This”, she said, dropping the dagger to the ground, “is the work of your agents.” The flash of fury in his eyes was unmistakable. “You want me to help you? Help you destroy the world so you can have some fantasy back? Do you even think the Dread Wolf will let some halfbreed live after he’s done?” She spat blood at his feet. “You’re a monster.” Anger built up as she spoke, her fists clenching, the air pulsing around her.

He stepped back, his staff between his hands. “Control your anger, Enaste.”

The pulsations came faster and louder. “Your agents failed. I’ll make sure you do too.”

He sprung into action before she could unleash the energy she’d gathered. His staff struck the ground and sent her tumbling into the void.

 

Enaste knew she was back in Dorian’s parlour as she crumbled to the floor, screaming, vision blurred, blood dripping from her mouth. She looked about and tried to move away from a looming shape to her left but her legs were too weak. A sharp pain in her side choked out any cry for help she might have had.

“Easy” said a voice. “Enaste, it’s me. Let me help you.” Cullen. She felt his hands reach under her to scoop her up again. She gagged from the pain. He placed her on the chaise again, clasping a cloth to her wound. “We pulled the dagger out after you drank the antidote, but we still need to close that wound.” Her eyes cleared, his eyes locked onto hers for a sense that she was fully awake. He took a vial out of his pocket. “Can you drink this? An elfroot potion should get you well on your way.” He removed the stopper and offered her the vial.

She nodded and drank the vial in small sips - every movement, every breath painful for several minutes as the potion worked its magic. “Thank you” she rasped.

He handed her a glass of water and she obliged. “Better?” He asked as he covered her with a sheet. She closed her eyes but nodded. His hand retreated from her rib and he took a look at the wound. “Better, but the healer will need to finish closing it.” He shook his head, angry. “Why? Why would you put yourself in such danger?”

She coughed, happy to see no blood in her hand. “To be fair,” she cleared her throat, “it was more an accident than anything else.” His puzzled expression brought a smirk to her lips. “I... tripped.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You... fell on the dagger by accident?”

“Pretty much.”

He laughed out loud, his serious features turned warm by the smile.

“Thank you, by the way” she said.

“What for?”

“Coming for me.”

His one-sided smile stretched his lips until little wrinkles touched the corner of his eyes. He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “Clever, by the way, warning me in a dream.”

She shifted in her seat. “Cullen, I’m...”, she sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“I’m just glad we were able to stop them in time.” His mouth closed on hers, at first gentle, deeper with each breath. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under his warm skin, her fingertips tracing his muscles, up his neck and into his hair. She nibbled the scar on his upper lip and he groaned, but pulled himself away, both of them breathless.

A cough from the doorway made both of them look over. “Am I interrupting?” Dorian leaned on the doorframe, a sly smile curling his lips. Cullen stood up to his full height, crossing his arms while glaring at Dorian who seemed oblivious.

Enaste reached out to the fade, calling on the spirits. Magic began to pour into her, the soft glow seeping into the gash, mending flesh, and sealing the skin shut. Enaste relaxed despite herself, her head sinking into the cushions. Dorian took a look at the wound. “Well done.”

The Iron Bull filled the doorway when he stepped into the room. He handed a bag to Dorian who opened it and pulled out the orb. “They were after more than our friend.”

“It was Feynriel, working for Solas. He has been following us through my dreams.” She sat up a little as eyes turned to her. “I didn’t know he was doing it or I would have mentioned it sooner. He sent the Elves, said he needs a dreamer.”

Cullen shook his head, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he began to pace. “After the Inquisition disbanded, we began searching for a way to stop Solas. The Inquisitor... I mean, lady Lavellan feels he can be redeemed somehow, but I’m not certain. He’s eluded us, thanks to the eluvians. We’ve made no progress toward finding a solution to the veil.”

“This is why you came to Tevinter? Why a dreamer? Why not just a mage?”

Dorian shrugged, his fingers clasping his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s needed for this orb? Who’s to say. Solas is a dreamer himself, why would he need another?” The silence that followed was answer enough.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing useful. He showed me a memory of Arlathan. He said dreamers, once the veil is down, will be needed to rebuild it. Madness, I told him.” She shook her head. “He tossed me out before I could blink.” She stared out the window for some time as everyone stood pondering the future. “He’ll try again.”

Dorian nodded. “Yes.”

 

Enaste returned to her room, her mind racing. Somewhere in her readings on dreamers, she’d read a little of the somnaborium, orbs that looked like the one she’d given to Dorian. They were described as vessels of dreams, but little else. Solas had told the Inquisitor that some were dedicated to particular members of the Elvhen pantheon. A slow thought began to form. She sat at the desk, grabbing pen, ink and paper and began to write.

 

Cullen stirred from sleep, his mind grasping for what might have woken him. A light shuffle by his bed brought on a dose of adrenaline, sharpening his vision. He rose to sit, but a small hand held him to his bed. “Maker’s breath” he whispered, his hand running through his hair as relief replaced fear. “Enaste. Is everything alright?”

She smiled as she leaned closer, sitting on the bed next to him. “I can’t sleep.”

She slid over him until she straddled his hips, both hands on his face now as his own traveled up to her waist. “I’m sorry”, he said.

She put a finger to his lips. “No need for that.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Just make it up to me.” He groaned as he kissed her neck, his hands tracing from her waist up to her ribs, shoulders, then into her hair. He sat up, his chest pressing against hers as he kissed her and she clasped his hair in her fists. His mouth moved down, sending shivers through her spine as he grazed her neck with his lips, nibbling here and there. His hands lowered to her waist and he lifted her up, her back arching so he could kiss her presented nipple. He kissed one, then moved to the other, staying there longer as she inhaled, raking his back with her fingernails.

She shifted her hips, feeling him, leaning in again to kiss him, the world a blur. His back lowered down to the mattress and she began to explore his chest, hands and mouth covering every inch. She found herself with her back on the mattress as he flipped her over, his callused hands gentle but assertive. His head moved, finding that sensitive spot along her pelvic bone that brought a low moan deep in her throat. Her hands clasped the sheets into fists as he reached further. Her eyes rolled back as the sensations intensified. Her own voice vaguely registered as she swore a tevene curse of pleasure that made the Commander laugh softly in her ear.

She guided him, in a frenzy to feel him, her legs wrapped around him, spurring him on. They exchanged caresses, kissing every inch, discovering each other through a passion and tenderness she’d never known. As she felt the singular heat return again, her nails digging into his shoulders, his own breathing quickened, his pace intensified, until, for a moment, their bodies merged, heartbeats as one, breathless.

She held his head for some time, running her fingers through his hair, enjoying his warmth and weight as he lay over her. He sighed as he rolled over, the smile on his lips spurring a giggle from her. “Commander Cullen,” she said as she curled into his neck, “I must say I am impressed.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Well, you did ask me to make up to you.”

She laughed. “Was that a joke, Mr. Rutherford?”

“I suppose it was.” His arm coiled under her head, bringing her closer and he kissed her forehead. “This was...”, he sighed.

She snuggled into him. “Get some rest, Cullen, just a few hours.”

 

Enaste waited for Cullen to fall back to sleep. She kissed his scar once more, tears in her eyes, before sneaking out of his room. The Iron Bull sat in the parlour, watching over the orb. “I can’t sleep. Why don’t you let me take over?” His eye lingered on her features but whatever he might have been thinking, she couldn’t guess. He stretched and thanked her before heading to Dorian’s room. She picked up the orb to look at it. It felt warmer than she remembered. She tossed it into a bag and ran out of the house. She grabbed Boss from the hitching post where’d she’d already tacked him and spurred him off into the distance. They’d have to be far enough behind or the whole plan would fail.

“Shit!” Iron Bull cursed and he went to fetch Dorian.

“Oh dear.” He put his tea down and they headed to Cullen’s room.

The Commander was awake in a moment. The look on Dorian’s face gave him pause. “What is it?”

“She’s taken the orb. She’s making a run for it.”

“What? What for?!”

“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling. Let’s go.”

Cullen tossed whatever clothes he could grab in a moment’s notice. They rushed to the stables to get their mounts and follow as best they could despite her head start.

 

She pulled to a stop some miles out. She couldn’t see anything nearby. She waved her arms and yelled at Boss to leave, slapped him, but the old dolt just looked at her. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “You have to go!” She pushed him and ran off further but he followed, looking for treats in her pocket. She fell to her knees and he came over to nuzzle her hair. She grabbed his face and kissed him between his nostrils. “You idiot... there’s no time.”

She took the orb out of her bag. It sizzled against her skin. She held it in her lap and closed her eyes. The dream came to her in an instant, the strength of it almost dizzying. The power of the orb was palpable even from the fade as she held it. She channeled on it, gathering, filling herself with its energy. Images came to her, too many to see. Spirits and demons began to cluster about her but they wouldn’t come near. Her mind raced as her body burned with power both in and out of the fade but she kept pulling in more.

“What are you doing?!” Her eyes opened to see Feynriel approaching her fade self. His eyes were wide as he stared at the orb and the power it bestowed.

“I told you. Making sure you fail.”

“You have no idea what this can do!”

“Neither do you.” The light around her grew, burning white hot. “Feel free to stay and find out.” She smiled as she pulled in every last drop of power from the orb that she could contain. Feynriel’s form began to smoulder as he tried to retreat. The sound of her own scream seemed so distant.

 

A bright, white light burst up and out into a beam off in the distance. The blast incinerated everything in its path for a mile around its point of origin. The horses spooked. The three riders had to fight to keep them from running away in the opposite direction. Cullen spurred his on as soon as it would listen, his heart in his chest. The grass and trees had burned down all around - in the centre, a dark black mass the only discernible shape. He dismounted but his feet wouldn’t carry him closer. His knees gave out. He didn’t want to see.

The Iron Bull lay a hand on his shoulder as he passed by while Dorian stayed with him. He walked up to the mound and knelt to get a closer look. He waved them to come closer as he began to lift a carcass. Dorian ran over in time to see Bull moving the cremated corpse of Enaste’s horse off of her. Her hair and clothes were singed, patches of her skin black. The shattered orb lay in her lap. He touched her cheek. She was breathing. “Cullen!”

The Iron Bull picked her up and carried her over to the Commander. When he saw her, asleep, his breath returned to his body in a gasp. He touched her cheek to feel its warmth. “How?”

Dorian shook his head. “I don’t know. The orb is shattered. And no breach... always a good thing. This doesn’t look like normal sleep. She may have entered uthenera.”

“How long can she survive like this?”

Dorian only shook his head, he didn’t know either. So much information had been lost on uthenera, and he himself had never studied it. “I will go through her notes, maybe she came across information. For now, all we can do is keep her comfortable.”

“The loss of this orb could make Solas desperate. We need to get the team moving, and fast.” Cullen stood. It was time, whether they were ready or not. The orb was out of play, but Solas wouldn’t be idle. He’d find a way.

 

Feynriel awoke from the dream with a scream, his skin charred, his clothes melted into it in chunks. A shadow approached his bedside. Eyes loomed out of the darkness to stare down at him. Cold. Feynriel reached a blackened hand to grasp at the shirt of the one standing next to him but he recoiled just out of reach. “You failed.” A deep, magnetic voice that chilled him to the bone. “We needed the orb. We needed the dreamer.”

“She’d never have... agreed. Too wild.”

“No. You were too weak, half-elf. Now I must seek... other means to accomplish what must be done.”

“Please,” he begged through clenched teeth, “help me.”

The shadow walked away. “You’ve earned your fate. As do we all. Dareth shiral, lethallin.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A letter from Cullen to Dorian, collected after the events, dated Solis 17, 9:45 Dragon.

 

_Dorian,_

_How is she? Send news._

_The team is eager to help and they’ve begun investigating the events we’ve discussed before my departure. I’m impressed with their progress already._

_I won’t say more, should this letter be intercepted. His agents are everywhere._

_-Cullen_

 

A subsequent response from Dorian, found in a cellar, dated Solis 24, 9:45 Dragon.

 

_Dear Cullen,_

_No changes, which is good news. I think. Leliana located someone with knowledge that may help, I’ll keep you apprised soon. Glad to hear things are on the move._

_Oh, and don’t die._

_-Dorian_

 

This letter was found in the Pavus mansion, dated Matrinalis 1, 9:45 Dragon, stained with wine.

 

_Dorian,_

_We must leave. I will send word. Do not write back._

_-Cullen_

 

A follow up letter, collected from the Pavus mansion, this one with the slight stench of... Fereldan beer? Dated Matrinalis 8, 9:45 Dragon.

 

_Dorian,_

_Had to relocate as we were discovered. We left nothing behind that would lead them to us now. Send news, please. Our efforts continue, we have some leads, and our new friends are more capable than I ever thought. I have hope._

_-C._

 

Dated Matrinalis 14, 9:45 Dragon.

 

_Cullen,_

_Still no changes. We applied the honey-water at the right moon, and it remained. How, I cannot say, but our friend states he’s not seen anything like it since ancient times. He fusses over her like a nanny, chanting to her. He even dressed her in a white gown, applying oils to her skin in some ritual I didn’t dare interrupt, even on your behalf my friend. It’s... I don’t know. Inspiring? He’s found a purpose and he is devoted to her. He refuses all help from my staff with her. Their hands are ‘not worthy?’ I won’t complain. He says that she is stirring and may awaken soon. I will let you know if she does._

_-Dorian_

 

Parvulis 2, 9:45 Dragon:

 

_Dorian,_

_I never thought I would be glad to see Cole. He helped us, from out of nowhere as usual, (our new friends took to him immediately) with a situation, as you’re no doubt aware by now from Harding’s report. Before he left, he looked at me from under that hat of his and said that she ’has almost found her way back’. I can’t recall the exact words now (you know how he is), but it’s left me feeling lighter than I have since that day._

_Thank you for everything you do for her,_

_Cullen_

_PS: I’d rather not hear any more about this new friend’s hands and his oils, thank you._

 

Eluviesta 19, 9:46 Dragon:

 

_Dorian,_

_I begin the trek back tomorrow with Harding. Our friends came through. Tell the Inquisitor we’ve found him. The rest is up to her._

_-C._


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Abelas watched the dreamer closely. Her eyes animated beneath her eyelids, flicking left and right. Her hands twitched. Her breathing quickened to a normal pace from the slow slumbering rhythm it had held for the past year. Her mouth opened as she gasped, eyes opened wide now. They searched and settled on his features as he sat next to her. He gave her some time to focus. “I know you” she said. “You sang to me.”

He bowed his head low, a hand on his heart. “A worthy burden. I am honoured to have served. We will proceed with the awakening ritual, if you are willing, to ease your body and mind back into the living world. This will take some time.”

Enaste still felt stiff of limbs and dull of mind by the time Abelas led her to the bath. He’d been caring for her for months, he told her. Leliana’s agents had reached out to him for help on caring for a dreamer in slumber. He hadn’t believed the report at first - only immortal ancient elves could succeed in achieving uthenera - but he’d been curious enough to accept looking at the elf. Upon seeing her, his purpose had become clear.

He used oils he’d prepared as she soaked in the hot bath, his hands massaging her limbs. He sang as he did so, the same song she’d heard through the dream. When her eyes began to close as she relaxed, he lit an incense that sprung her mind awake. “Not yet, Da’len. Your friends await. Your guardian is eager to see you after all this time.”

Abelas helped her out of the bath and dried her, helping her dress. As control returned, she assisted as best she could, though her fingers fumbled much. The sound of steps rushing up the stairs brought a smile to her face.

 

Cullen rushed up the stairs of the mansion to greet Dorian. They’d moved from the Pavus mansion to a more secure location sometime the previous year. The magister stood up and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you. Let’s go, she’s waiting.”

They walked down the hall, nodding to the ancient elven guards at the door as they entered. Cullen hadn’t seen her since he’d left the previous year, a day after she’d gone into the dream. Her hair had grown back. It had been brushed into a raven sheen and her skin glowed from daily care. The white gown that shrouded her body caught his breath. Her silver eyes lit up at the sight of him. She’d awoken that morning, he’d been told. Abelas greeted them with a nod.

Cullen stepped through the room, his arms wrapping her in a fierce embrace.

“How do you feel?” Dorian asked.

“Groggy” she said. “Like I don’t fit in my own body.”

“It will pass” Abelas nodded.

“I missed you.” Cullen kissed her, a long, slow, savouring kiss. She clung to his neck for balance until his arms steadied her close. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he said.

She giggled. “I’ll do my best.” The group cleared the room without a word, leaving the two to find each other again.


	16. Epilogue

Enaste awoke from the dream. The man in front of her slept quietly, his nightmare abated. The former templar had arrived the previous night, kicking and screaming as Lace Harding directed the group to a cot for him. He’d been tended to and calmed down enough to begin on some healing by the mages on hand. The shelter had started out in a small house with only enough room for one or two charges, and only Cullen and Enaste as to share in the work. As word had spread of their successes in helping Templars shed their lyrium addiction, however, they’d had to relocate to accommodate more. Funds began to come in from Divine Victoria first, then from noble families hoping to help their sons and daughters. Even Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, had sent them a generous donation from the crown.

Some time after they’d been reunited, Cullen and Enaste had travelled through the Frostbacks, stopping in Skyhold at her request where she’d entered the dream for several days. Upon waking, Enaste announced rather glumly to Cullen that she was pregnant, who was overjoyed in contrast. They were on their way to Ferelden from there, settling near Southreach a few weeks later. Mia’s squeals of delight at the news she were to become an aunt produced an exasperated grunt from Enaste. Though she liked her, the persistent morning sickness, exhaustion and gushing from everyone exasperated her beyond measure. Cullen, for himself, had learned to keep a safe distance from his beloved, but remained watchful to her needs in his usual quiet thoughtfulness.

The birth hadn’t improved her experience. A healer had been consulted and they’d been advised a human child could pose risks for an elven mother. True to form, after almost a full day of painful labour, the surgeon had decided to pull the babe out through incisions in the abdomen. Pain killers had to be avoided due to Enaste’s weakened state and propensity to fall into the Fade. Cullen had been beside himself with grief, holding her hand as she screamed through the blood and pain until she’d lost consciousness. Healers had been waiting nearby and stepped in as soon as the child had been brought into the world to assist the surgeon in restoring Enaste.

She’d awakened a couple of days later to someone singing. Her eyes scanned the room to find Cullen in a rocking chair chanting a lullaby to his daughter as she drank a bottle of milk. He’d presented the child to her with an adoring smile that brought tears to her eyes. Though she’d not grown to motherhood during her pregnancy (she’d forever describe the experience as a miserable hell-pit), her entire being wasn’t prepared for the way she felt once her daughter was in her arms. They’d named her Lilim in remembrance of the woman without whom none of their happiness would have been possible.

Cullen’s family helped build the new clinic. With renewed funding, they were able to build new additions - rooms, a larger kitchen, staff quarters. Although Enaste handled the dreams, they had enough willing mages to help with the healing now that she didn’t have to. Cullen spent a lot of time with their charges, talking them through the harder bouts, encouraging them to persist when they might have faltered. She’d just finished chasing the templar’s terror from his dreams.

She looked over to Cullen who stood by with a smile. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

She shrugged. “It’s early.” She squeezed his arm and pecked his cheek. “But I’m hopeful. I need to see the sun.” They left the room and headed into the garden. The sun shone above the mountains in the distance, the last warm days of Summer before heading into Fall. The fade had grown more and more troubled over the past few years. The dark presence she’d felt had grown, the white noise almost deafening. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to do it safely, or what stirred in the dark city but she dreaded what it might bring. The sun always made her feel better.

A small voice behind some hedges grabbed their attention. They walked to peek over. Their daughter sang a song as she played with a small wooden griffon, Cullen’s mabari watching over her. Enaste didn’t know the melody but it brought a smile to her lips.

“Mamma!” The child ran over to her and jumped up for a hug. Her amber eyes shone with joy, her white-red golden hair bouncing with the wind.

Enaste passed her over to Cullen who kissed her forehead, a strange expression on his face. “Where did you learn this song, Lilim?”

“She taught me.” Cullen looked to Enaste who shrugged. “Her daddy used to sing it for her when he was happy. She said you’d like it.”

He hugged his daughter fiercely, his face burying into her hair. “I do, sweetheart. Will you teach it to me?”

Enaste watched with a smile as Cullen took his daughter down to the lake. For now, they would enjoy peace while it lasted.


End file.
